


Things That Go Bump in the Night

by madeleone



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Humor, Mystery, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-08
Updated: 2013-03-08
Packaged: 2017-12-04 15:05:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 44,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/712080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madeleone/pseuds/madeleone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Ministry won't let Hermione Granger take her NEWTs, so how's a witch supposed to find a decent job? Severus Snape is an acknowledged war hero, but no one will to do business with him. In order to make a living, the two decide to try their luck in the Muggle world in very unusual occupations. Then one day their paths cross... the rest, as they say, is history. Written for the 2012 ss/hg exchange on live journal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Dear Mr. Longbottom,_

_I have a business proposal to present to you. It would be financially beneficial for both of us. Please contact me at this address at your earliest convenience. Thank you for your consideration._

_Yours truly,_

_Severus Snape_

~*~

Neville read the letter again for the tenth time. He kept re-reading it because he couldn't believe it was real. But the truth of the matter was it was genuine. He'd checked it numerous times for hexes, jinxes, curses or charms. He'd cast spells on the signature to verify that it actually was from whom it said it was. He'd even taken it to Filius to have him check it for authenticity, and the diminutive Charms master—now deputy headmaster, had confirmed that it actually had come from Severus Snape: written by his own hand.

It was so like the man, thought Neville. No small talk leading up to whatever it was that he wanted. No explanation of what it was all about, just painfully blunt and to the point: business proposal, financial benefits, call me. 

“If I knew what was good for me, I'd throw the damned thing in the rubbish bin and be done with it,” muttered Neville. And yet, the very idea that Professor Snape would contact, him—Neville Longbottom—the one he'd denigrated the entire time he'd been his student, more than any other in his class, the student whom he had obviously considered inept and incompetent. For him to approach Neville with a proposal like this, the very idea was ridiculous, unbelievable... and absolutely intriguing. 

Neville couldn't help but recall that final nightmare of a seventh year. In the very beginning of that year, he had hated Snape with a fiery passion. However, as the year had progressed, Neville had come to realize that there was much more going on than was initially apparent. Luna was actually the first to twig to it, and the two of them had spent hours in private, debating the possibilities. By the end, between them, they had managed to figure the whole thing out, and pretty accurately at that. The only thing they hadn't been sure of was Snape's motivation for working behind the scenes against Voldemort. Luna had guessed it was for love, while Neville favored the revenge theory; essentially, they were both right.

After reading the letter, Filius encouraged him to follow up on it. In his opinion, if Severus was offering a business proposal it was probably on the up and up. Snape didn't play around.

Neville headed back to his office in the back of Greenhouse Three to compose his reply. He was unsure at first how to phrase it, but decided in the end to simply follow Snape's format. 

_Dear Mr. Snape,_

_I'm intrigued. Financial benefits sound good. When and where?_

_Sincerely,_

_Neville Longbottom_

Now, as the Muggles would say, the ball was in Snape's court.

~*~

Thursday evening found Neville trudging down the street towards the Three Broomsticks. He knew Snape had chosen this time and place because it was relatively quiet, and no teachers or students were liable to be out after hours on a school night. Just as he'd expected, when he opened the door there were only a few patrons present: a couple of old codgers playing draughts by the hearth, a young couple finishing their dinner, and a few regulars at the bar. 

Neville glanced around and then noticed him down at the very end of the bar nursing a stout and talking quietly with Madam Rosmerta. She laid her hand on his shoulder and leaned down to whisper something in his ear which caused a smile to appear on Snape's face. Neville couldn't help but wonder that he'd never in his recollection seen the man smile. It changed his countenance entirely from this cold, dour man to someone who might actually be friendly and interesting. She nodded in Neville's direction as he approached and said something to Snape. He turned and acknowledged Neville, reverting back to his strict Potion master's persona that was more familiar to Neville. 

“Longbottom, thank you for agreeing to meet with me. Shall we adjourn to a more private table?”

Neville looked around. “How about back there?” he asked, indicating the booth in the corner with a jerk of his head. It was private and there weren't any other patrons nearby. 

“Looks fine. Lainey, I'll have another, and bring Longbottom whatever he wants to drink, as well.”

“I'll have whatever he's having,” responded Neville, turning to make his way back to the corner. As Snape slid onto the bench opposite him, Neville couldn't help but ask, “Lainey?”

“The woman does have a first name, you know. It's Elaine, actually. Elaine Rosmerta,” replied Snape. “Although, I wouldn't recommend that you try calling her Lainey or even Elaine, unless she first gives you leave to do so, or you might find yourself with a pitcher of butterbeer upended on your head.”

Neville nodded. “Thanks. I think I'll just stick to Madam Rosmerta for now.” 

The lady in question arrived to deliver their drinks and gave Neville an encouraging wink before sauntering back behind the bar. The two men sat in silence for a full minute, which seemed to both more like an hour. Finally Neville broke the ice, “So professor, you have my attention. What are the particulars of this business proposal you mentioned?”

Snape hesitated before speaking, apparently considering just how much to reveal. “I don't know how much you know about my situation, Longbottom, but the truth of the matter is I need a means to support myself—”

“But I'd heard that you opened your own Apothecary. I would think a well known war hero and Potion Master with your credentials would flourish in that business.”

“Well, you would think wrong,” growled Snape in return. He took a sip of his drink then continued in a calmer voice. “I had actually thought the same thing. However it appears due to bad publicity bandied about after the war, the general public will not do business with or buy any potions from anyone bearing the name of Snape. I had even considered returning to teaching. Without having to deal with Albus on one side and Voldemort on the other, it would be an acceptable existence.”

“But the Potions position is open for next year. Why didn't you apply for it, sir?” asked Neville.

“I did, but Minerva claims that although she would be willing to have me back on staff, the board of governors and the parents would never accept having me work at Hogwarts again.”

“But that's so unfair, professor. Without you and everything you did, the entire outcome of the war might have been different.”

“Life isn't fair, Longbottom. And stop calling me professor and sir. If we're to be business partners, we will be equals.”

“Very well, Severus,” replied Neville with a cheeky grin.

Severus frowned. “I was thinking more along the lines of Longbottom and Snape,” he grumbled, pinning Neville with the gaze that was proven to freeze first years in their tracks. 

“That look won't work on me, Severus. I'm not afraid of you anymore,” he lied. _Well, perhaps it was half a lie_ , thought Neville. He was still a little afraid of Snape—he'd be a fool not to be—but he also admired him and knew he could be trusted. “If we are to be partners, then we should be on a first name basis. Of course I haven't actually agreed to a partnership yet. Exactly what sort of business was it you had in mind?”

Severus went on to explain his situation. Because he'd been losing money hand over fist, he'd been forced to close the Apothecary. He'd sold off the inventory, but the proceeds from that hadn't even paid off the loan he'd taken out to start the business. So now, already in debt, he'd been living off his savings from his teaching days but those funds were dwindling quickly. He'd been wracking his brain to come up with a way to support himself. 

“Then I decided to think outside the box, so to speak. I started thinking of my Muggle gran, a feisty old biddy if there ever was one. She lived out in the country. My da left there to come to the city to make his way in the world and ended up in the mills, which were already on the verge of dying out at the time. But all through my childhood, I'd heard stories of how gran had supported the two of them when her husband went off to the army and got himself killed. She had quite a green thumb and a fabulous garden, and she sold her produce and flowers to the rich gentry of the area. She grew rare flowers and hybrid strains of fruits and vegetables and they were willing to pay a pretty penny for it all. That got me to thinking, what if I grew rare and unusual things like my gran did?”

“Like rare, hard to find potions ingredients?” asked Neville. “But if people wouldn't buy potions from your apothecary, why would they buy your ingredients... Oh, is that to be my role?”

“Yes and no, Neville. Originally, I thought of you because of your strong reputation in Herbology. You would be perfect for a partner in a business that grows rare and hard to find items. But then I started thinking, why limit myself strictly to the wizarding world? I've got jack shit for support from any of them. I did some research and I've learned that wealthy Muggles will pay unbelievable prices for certain delicacies, Neville. Fucking unbelievable prices.”

Neville sat up and took interest. “What kinds of delicacies, Severus? And just how fucking unbelievable are we talking about here?”

“Coffee beans that have been eaten by a civet in their raw berry form and then 'harvested' at the other end. A hundred ninety-two pounds per pound British and in wizard terms—”

“Merlin's saggy ball sac! But that's over thirty-eight galleons for a pound of coffee beans that's been shat out an animal's arse? That's absolutely bonkers,” exclaimed Neville.

“I know and it's just the tip of the iceberg,” replied Severus. “Muggles will be our target market, so I'm pleased you understand the monetary conversions. Moose milk cheese-over three hundred pounds per pound, La Bonnotte potatoes-nearly a thousand per pound, Matsutake mushrooms-twelve hundred pounds per pound, saffron-eighteen hundred pounds per pound, European white truffles-about twenty-three hundred pounds per pound. The list goes on and on, caviar, gourmet vanilla beans, Kobe beef, blue fin tuna. With our magical resources I'm sure we could produce and market some of these things easily. Of course we'd have to be careful, we can't flood the market or the prices would plummet. After all, what makes these items so valuable is their rarity.”

“Are you suggesting that we transfigure other food stuffs into these things? Because I'm not sure that's a feasible plan, trying to transfigure food is dodgy business,” contributed Neville.

“No, no, transfiguration or spellwork wouldn't be a viable option. I was thinking more along the lines of obtaining some of these items: the fungi, the saffron, the La Bonnotte potatoes, for example. We study them, where they grow, the conditions they thrive in and we replicate that to produce these items in a controlled magical environment. Or, take the saffron, for example, it is harvested from the stigmas of a particular crocus. But each flower only has three stigmas. Hence, it takes thousands and thousands of the flowers to produce a single pound of saffron. But what if we developed a flower that had thirty stigmas? Or magically made the flowers huge to increase the harvest?”

“And since our target market will be wealthy Muggles, not wizards, your reputation here in the wizarding world shouldn't be a factor in the success of our business,” said Neville. “Our profits are going to go through the roof.”

Snape gave him a knowing little smirk. “Our market, our business, our profits. Can I take this to mean you're in?”

Neville held out his hand, which Severus grasped in a firm shake. “I'm definitely in, Severus. But there is something I need to know first. I'm curious; why me? Why not one of your Slytherins? I don't understand why you would ask me, of all people. From your actions toward me as your student, I would think you must have hated me. I should be the last person you would want to be business partners with.” 

“I didn't hate you; I was hard on you, because you scared the shit out of me, Longbottom. I was terrified you were going to kill everyone in your Potions class, me included, with one of your explosions. But the success of this business doesn't hinge on potions knowledge. Although Herbology skills are of the utmost importance in this endeavor, I didn't choose you simply based on your renown as one of the top in your field. 

Through the years, I watched you grow from a timid, awkward little boy, into a strong, brave man whom I would trust with my life. I'm sure you aren't aware of this, but during your first year, there were a lot of us in the staff room who thought that the sorting hat had finally got it wrong when it sorted you. But Minerva had an unstoppable faith in you. She would just smile with that 'cat who ate the cream' smirk of hers and murmur, 'Time will tell. You mark my words, young Neville's right where he ought to be, you'll see. Time will tell.' And she was right. I know about some of the things you did that last year to protect the younger children, the way you drew the Carrows' attention away from them and took on their detentions as your own. I heard how you stood up to Voldemort and basically told him to 'fuck off'. Gods, I wish I could have been there to witness that scene. That and how you dispatched that thrice damned snake,” concluded Severus with a faraway look on his face, as his fingers drifted up to rub over the scars still visible on his neck. 

“I'll let you watch it in a Pensieve sometime, Severus,” promised Neville. “It took us a while, but Luna and I worked it out long before the end, just whose side you were really on.”

“Lovegood?” snorted Severus in disbelief. 

“Don't sell her short, Severus. That's the problem with people. They don't look past the surface. That's why people were willing to believe the very worst of you. There's much more to Luna than meets the eye. And to tell you the truth she wouldn't be a bad contact to have in this venture, especially if we decide to pursue the animal side, you mentioned, caviar, beef, and others. Luna knows more about creatures than anyone I know, and I'll bet she knows a lot about Muggle creatures too.” Neville pulled out a pocket watch to check the time. “I need to get back to the school. I still have third year tests to mark. We'll have to set up a meeting to make more specific plans. How about this weekend? Can we meet at your place?”

Severus hesitated a moment before nodding in agreement. He gave Neville the address and they agreed to meet early on Saturday to brainstorm what their first steps should be. 

~*~

“Those fucking rat bastards!” exclaimed Hermione as she crumpled the note she'd just received and threw it across the room. 

“Language, Hermione, language.” Her mother's voice came from the kitchen. 

“Sorry, Mum,” said Hermione. She mumbled under her breath. “Great bloody wankers, that's what they all are.”

“I heard that, missy,” admonished her mum as she peeked around the doorway. “What is it that's got you in such a tizzy, hon. Your aura is all out of whack, not like you at all, Hermione,” Linda Granger commented with concern in her voice.

Feeling sure that her mum couldn't see her, Hermione rolled her eyes at the comments about her aura, and before she could even answer her mum she was scolded again.

“And don't you roll your eyes at me young lady. You, as a witch, should know better than anyone that there are many unexplained things in the world. And right now your aura is telling me that you are carrying around an excessive amount of negative energy. Now come on out to the kitchen and I'll fix us some tea and you can tell me what's wrong.”

 _How does she do that?_ wondered Hermione. _I had my back turned to her, how can she possibly know I was rolling my eyes? Is just it a mum thing, or some sort of new age hocus pocus?_ Ever since Hermione had retrieved her parents from Australia, they just hadn't been the same. They'd eventually forgiven her for altering their memories, realizing that she truly had done it out of love for them, to protect them. But they were different people from the Jack and Linda Granger she had known. Instead of the straight-arrow, down to earth dentists she remembered from her childhood, her parents had become crystal packing, tarot card reading, spiritualistic, new-agers. She still loved them of course, and they seemed perfectly happy, but it was certainly taking some getting used to. She trudged through the kitchen door, dragging her feet as she went to join her mum for tea and interrogation.

“Now, sweetie, tell your old mummy what it is that's got you in such a dark temper,” Linda teased as she poured the tea and offered Hermione some of her favorite biscuits, spiced oatmeal and raisin.

With a sigh, Hermione took the cup of tea and practically inhaled the first biscuit. Then she nibbled on the second as Linda placed two more, still warm from the oven, on her plate. She'd been avoiding revealing her troubles to her parents because she knew they would feel in part responsible for her problems and guilty about it too. She just didn't want to drop that burden on them. But it had got to the point that she had to tell them because they knew she wasn't pursuing a career in either the wizarding world or the Muggle one either. 

“I got another letter from the ministry denying my appeal to sit my N.E.W.T.s independently. The final appeal they say. I don't meet their requirements and they aren't going to change the rules just for me. I also got a letter back from Professor McGonagall. She says that although she'd love to have me back at Hogwarts, there's apparently some obscure rule that no one over the age of twenty-one may enroll as a student.”

“Oh dear. Well, obviously since you're twenty-two already and soon to be twenty-three this autumn that definitely puts a hold on your plans to go back and earn your N.E.W.T.s through traditional means.” said Linda.

“This was really my last hope, Mum. I don't know what I'm going to do now,” replied Hermione with a sigh. “It's virtually impossible to find any kind of decent job in the wizarding world without your N.E.W.T.s.”

It didn't take a psychic to see how upset her daughter was as she unconsciously shredded the paper napkin into tiny little pieces. “Are you're absolutely sure they won't let you do the honorary thing, like Harry and Ron and your other friends did?”

“I'm positive, I've checked—over and over and over. I must have talked to at least seven different department heads. They kept shuttling me from one office to another, but the answer was always a big fat no. Although it wasn't mentioned at the time the honorary certificates were proposed, apparently they were only granted for a period of two years after the end of the war. The Ministry is maintaining that since I didn't respond to their original invitation to be awarded the honorary qualifications, I was in essence declining their offer. That wasn't my intention at all. I just knew at the time it was more important to find you and Dad and bring you home than it was to fill out an endless list of forms for the Ministry.”

Linda quietly removed the pile of shreds and gave her daughter a new napkin to destroy. 

Hermione continued on, not even noticing. “And I assumed that when I got back I could either sit my N.E.W.T.s or get the honorary certificate. When I discovered that those two options were blocked I came up with the plan to go back to Hogwarts to officially finish my final year. Even though it would take a year longer, I was willing to do it. But now that Professor McGonagall has denied me even that, I have no other ideas.”

“Have you considered going to a university in the Muggle world and making a life for yourself here?” Linda asked hopefully. The look on her daughter's face told her the answer to her question before Hermione even had a chance to speak.

“Oh, Mum. I love you and Dad, and now that we've got everything all sorted out between us about the past, I want to keep close ties to you both. But I'm a witch. The wizarding world is where I want to live. All my friends are there. I can be me without having to cover up or hide who I really am.” Hermione blinked hard, trying to hold back the tears that were stinging the backs of her eyes, “I'm starting to wonder, though, if the wizarding world even wants me there. It seems like once again I'm struggling to find my place and that I'm not really wanted there at all.” 

Hermione covered her face in her hands and choked back a sob. Linda scooted a chair up next to her and embraced her daughter in a tight hug. “Don't you worry, sweetheart. Something will come along. You are an exceptional woman and witch and somehow everything is going to work out for the best.” After considering for a moment she suggested, “Harry must have some influence. After all he did save your world from Voldebert—”

“Voldemort,” corrected Hermione with a small smile on her lips.

“Yes, him. Anyway, Harry surely must have some pull somewhere after all that. Can't he help you find a way around all this? Or if you can't sit your N.E.W.T.s, can't he help to get you a job some other way... an apprentice, on the job training, or something like that?”

“I don't know if Harry could help or not, Mum. But I really don't want to bother him with my problems right now. His personal life is in the pits. A couple of months ago he broke up with Ginny again and I think this time is the end for real. As a result, Ron's been avoiding him because he doesn't want to take sides between his sister and his best friend. And the rest of the Weasleys were like Harry's adopted family so he's really feeling abandoned and depressed right now. I can't pile one more burden on him after all that, Mum. I just can't.”

Giving Hermione a comforting pat on the shoulder, her mum said, “I can understand why you wouldn't want to bother Harry at a time like this, the poor boy. He'll always be welcome here, dear. We can be his family, and gladly so. Next time you see him tell him I want him to come have dinner with us.”

“Okay, Mum, I will.” Hermione smiled. She knew her mum had always had a soft spot for Harry. 

“Hermione, I have an idea how to figure out what you need to do.”

Linda rose and went to open a drawer. Drawing something out and hiding it behind her back, she approached her daughter. “Now, Hermione, keep an open mind. I know you think it's silly, but let's see what the tarot cards say.” She set the cards down on the table and Hermione jumped back as if they were a nest of Acromantulas. 

“Mum! For Merlin's sake!” Hermione cried. “I am not deciding my future by playing around with a bunch of fortune telling cards. It's ridiculous!” Jumping up, she stomped out through the back door in a huff. 

With a sad sigh Linda watched Hermione leave. Looking down at the cards, she shuffled the deck and began laying them down in a traditional Celtic Cross pattern, it was her favorite spread for doing a tarot reading. “Oh, my. This is very interesting,” she murmured. It would have been better, of course, if Hermione had participated in the reading. But as her mum, Linda felt her strong feelings for her daughter would give her a fairly accurate reading. She carefully studied the cards and grabbing a pen and pad from the drawer she quickly began to make notes on her interpretation.

~*~

Hermione wandered aimlessly on the trails near her parents home for the next hour or so. She missed the familiarity of the neighborhood she had grown up in. Her childhood home had mysteriously caught fire and burned to the ground shortly after she'd sent her parents away, so they'd been forced to relocate upon their return. After much discussion, they had decided rather than try to recapture what they'd had in England before the war, they would start afresh in a new place. She had abided by her parent's choice to live in a much more rural area than the middle class suburban home Hermione was used to. Jack and Linda had got used to a quiet country lifestyle during their years away. Although Hermione had arranged for them to live in a neighborhood there very similar to their home in England, after arriving they had soon broken their lease and moved away from the fringes of the city to settle in the nearby mountains. That was one of the reasons it had taken her so long to locate them when she went back to retrieve them.

After returning to England, her father had done copious amounts of research and purchased a lovely country home not far from the tiny village of Brierley, in Gloucestershire. By the time Hermione had realized what he was up to it was a fait accompli, and to her horror the home was located directly in the Forest of Dean. Merlin knew she and the boys had stayed a lot of different places during that awful year on the run, but for some reason, in her mind, the Forest of Dean seemed to be representative of that entire year they'd spent fighting for survival. She had once sworn she would never willingly return there again. However, once her parents had settled in, Hermione found that she was able look past her last experiences there while on the camping trip from hell, and remember it as the place she had enjoyed on family visits in her youth.

Neither of her parents had any desire to return to their dental careers. Luckily, while in Australia Jack had discovered a keen affinity for successful online investing; he'd managed to turn the small nest egg Hermione had set them up with into a rather sizable fortune. The fact of the matter was that Hermione really did not need to work either, as her father had set up a significant trust for her. Still, she was not the type of person to sit idle and she wanted something to occupy her days with. 

Hermione sat on a log next to a stream and felt bad for yelling at her mum. She knew she owed her an apology, and she vowed to try to control her temper in the future. She just found it so difficult to deal with her mum's, and dad's, too, to an extent, involvement in all the new-age nonsense that they had mired themselves in: crystals and tarot and astrology and spirit guides and such. It was just too bloody much like Divination, and Hermione had never put stock in any of that rubbish either.

With a sigh she stood and decided to pop off to London to commiserate with Harry. At least as a witch, she was not limited by the distances she had to travel to visit her friends. Within seconds, she was standing on the front step of twelve Grimmauld Place. Since she was one of the very few people keyed to the wards, she entered without knocking. She headed straight to the front parlor where she knew she was most likely to find her friend. 

Flinging open the door, she called, “Harry!”

What she saw brought her to a screeching halt. Her mouth dropped open in shocked. Harry and Draco Malfoy were locked together in a clinch. Harry had him pinned against the arm of the sofa and it appeared that he was trying to swallow Malfoy's tongue, while Malfoy's fingers were threaded through Harry's messy black locks trying to pull him even closer, if that were even possible. At her greeting they jerked apart and she could see that Malfoy's trousers were undone and Harry's hand was buried inside. As Harry yanked his hand out Hermione could see, good gods, was that Malfoy's... 

Totally embarrassed, Hermione slapped her hands over her mouth, then over her eyes, then back to her mouth. She quickly back pedaled out of the room as she muttered, “Oh, gods... I'm sorry... I shouldn't have... Sorry... I didn't mean to... Sorry... sorry... I am so fucking sorrrry!” 

Before she could make a safe get-away, Harry dashed forward and grabbed her in the doorway. “Hermione, wait! It's not what you think.”

“Really, Harry? It's not? What a relief, because what I think I just saw was you and Malfoy here, snogging the pants off each other, and doing a damned fine job of it too, by the looks of it.”

Harry glanced at Draco and then looked helplessly back at Hermione. “Okay, so maybe it is what you think.” 

Hermione couldn't help but look up at Malfoy, who was smirking at her as he made a show of deliberately tucking his shirt back in before he zipped and buttoned up his jeans. Deciding to give him back a bit of his own she commented, “Nice package, by the way, Malfoy.”

It was Malfoy's turn to look embarrassed as his jaw dropped and a blush stained his cheeks. 

“Don't challenge her, Draco. You won't win,” warned Harry with a grin. 

Allowing Harry to lead her back into the parlor, she sat in one of the arm chairs as Harry walked to the side-board and poured them all a drink. 

“So, is this what the break-up with Ginny was about?” asked Hermione bluntly.

“Yes, and no,” replied Harry. “Nothing physical started with Draco before the break-up, but I knew it just wasn't right between Ginny and me. Honestly, it hasn't been for a long time. I knew it deep down. That's why we broke up the first three times. But I always let Ginny, and Ron and everyone else guilt me into getting back together with her. This time she was pressuring me to give her an engagement ring and set a date. I finally realized if I let her have her way I'd be trapped. That's when it hit me; no one should look at that kind of commitment like a trap. It should be one of the happiest times of your life. So I ended it.” 

Hermione reached across and patted Harry's knee. “And it felt right, didn't it? A huge relief?”

Harry nodded and she continued, “Like you'd been carrying this burden, like... I don't know... like you'd been carrying Norbert around on your back and he'd just suddenly flown off. And the relief was just enormous.”

“Yes!” Harry practically shouted. “That's it exactly.”

“Wait,” interrupted Draco. “Who's Norbert?”

They both ignored him. “How did you know, Hermione?”

“That's exactly how I felt when I finally broke it off with Ron.”

“Who's Norbert?” 

Harry continued to ignore Draco and looked contrite as he said, “Hermione, I'm really sorry if I put pressure on you back then about Ron.”

“It's okay, Harry. I know at the time you meant well. But it's like you said, it just didn't feel right.” 

“Who the hell is Norbert!” demanded Malfoy.

“Hagrid's dragon,” they both said at the same time. 

Draining his drink and looking at the clock, Harry asked, “Will you stay and have dinner with us?” 

She glanced at Malfoy, who gave her a brief nod of approval. “I'd love to, Harry. I've missed spending time with you lately. I wanted to give you your space. I'm just going to call Mum on my mobile to let her know where I am. We had a bit of a row and I left in a huff. I don't want her to worry.”

After Hermione contacted her mum, Harry stepped out to talk to Kreacher about dinner. With Harry gone, Draco turned to Hermione. “Just so you know, what he said was true. We hadn't been together before this last break up with the Weaselette. But I have been flirting with him for the past year or so.”

“Hell, Malfoy. I think you've been flirting with him since our first year at Hogwarts. It's just that none of us recognized it for what it was.”

He opened his mouth as if to protest, but then closed it firmly and nodded with a twisted half smile. “You could be right, Granger.”

Hermione leaned forward in her chair and looked Draco dead in eyes. “Whatever is between you and Harry is your business. If he's happy, then I'm happy. But if you ever intentionally hurt him, Malfoy, you will answer to me. And, you'd better believe me, I'll make Voldemort seem like Gilderoy Lockhart.”

Draco leaned back and surveyed her with a smirk. “I think you're jealous, Granger. Are you in love with our boy, Potty?”

Hermione shook her head and looked at him in disbelief. “Malfoy, you are a fucking idiot. Of course I _love_ Harry. He's been one of the most important people in my life since I was twelve years old. I stood by him through everything. He was my only family when I Obliviated my own parents and sent them away to protect them, not knowing if I would ever see them again or if they would ever forgive me for what I'd done. We went to hell and back that last year of the war, a good portion of it with only each other to rely on. So, yes, I do love Harry Potter. But I most definitely am not _in love_ with him. He's a brother to me, Draco. So believe me when I say it, if you deliberately cause my brother pain, you will feel my wrath.”

Draco's eyes widened as he looked past her shoulder. She felt Harry's hand rest on her back and he bent to kiss her cheek. “Are you giving him your, 'if you hurt Harry, I will hurt you even more' speech, love?”

She looked up into his familiar green eyes and smiled. “Something like that, dearie.”

Harry took her hand and, reaching out for Draco's as well, he pulled them both after him to the dining room.

~*~

After finishing off two bottles of elf made wine with dinner in addition to the Firewhisky they'd had earlier, it was Draco who convinced her to stay the night rather than risk Apparating home. She spoke to her dad to let him know that she was spending the night at Harry's and would come home in the morning. 

When she arrived home her mum was waiting for her with a mug of tea and a hug.

Before Linda could speak, Hermione jumped in. “Mum, I'm sorry for yelling at you yesterday. You are entitled to your beliefs and I shouldn't belittle them, even if I don't share them.”

“It's alright, sweetie,” said Linda quietly. “I know it's hard for you to understand. I know we aren't the parents you remember us to be. Things happened while we were gone, things that can't be explained. We had no memory of having a daughter and yet I knew something wasn't right, somehow I just knew. The first time I had a tarot reading, I couldn't believe the things she was able to tell me. Things she shouldn't have known and yet she did. Maybe I started using it all as a crutch, trying to discover what it was that was missing in my life. But the more I learned, the more real it became. I know you don't believe it, but there's something there, Hermione. There is.”

“I know you think so, Mum. To be honest there are plenty of people in the wizarding world who believe in similar practices, astrology, tea leaves, crystal balls. Maybe it's because the Divination teacher at Hogwarts was a sherry tippling weirdo that I just got disgusted with it all and turned my back on it long ago.”

With a warm smile for her daughter, Linda said, “I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree on some things, won't we dear?

“Now on another note, I have a favor to ask. It's for the relative of a friend, actually. I told her you might be able to help. She's willing to pay handsomely, if you can take care of her little problem.”

Hermione frowned. “I don't understand, Mum. How could I help your friend? What kind of problem does she have?”

“My friend Suzanne has a cousin who just bought a lovely old country house nearby, in the Cotswolds, but she's discovered it's haunted or something. She can hardly stand to stay there. As soon as she arrives things start happening: loud noises, banging and thumping, things fall of counters, sinks overflow. I know you used to tell stories of the ghosts at Hogwarts, so you know that such things do exist.”

“But, Mum, how is it you think I can help? I can't do magic in front of Muggles and even if I could I'm no exorcist.”

“Well, I know that, but you could at least see the ghosts at Hogwarts. I thought maybe since you're a witch they might reveal themselves to you. Maybe you could simply reason with them, maybe get them to leave, or if not, maybe at least get them to allow Angela to live there in peace.”

Hermione considered it for a moment before replying, “I suppose it wouldn't do any harm to go take a look. I'll do a little research, I believe there is quite a bit of interest by Muggles in paranormal activity. To tell you the truth it sounds more like a poltergeist to me, they aren't really ghosts, but they like to do pranks and harass people.”

Linda jumped up to engulf her daughter in a hug. “Oh, honey, thanks so much! I'll call Suze and let her know. Shall we say day after tomorrow?”

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione popped back over to Harry's to use the library at Grimmauld Place for her research. She still entered without knocking but was careful to announce her presence loudly before venturing beyond the foyer. 

Harry's head poked around the corner of the hallway down to the kitchen. “Hi, Harry. I have a project I'm working on for a friend of my mum's. I need to do some research in your library. Is that okay?”

“You don't even have to ask, love. Draco and I are going out to meet some friends for drinks. If we're not back before you're done, just let yourself out.”

Hermione spent several hours researching information on poltergeists. According to what her mum had told her about the activities, it did sound more like a poltergeist than a traditional ghost. What was problematic was apparently there was no way to force a poltergeist to leave a place. That was probably why no one had ever been able to get rid of Peeves at Hogwarts. 

Thinking of Hogwarts reminded her of her annoyance with the Headmistress. Hermione suddenly sat back in her chair with an evil little grin on her face. She had an idea, it was a long shot, but if it worked, it would be perfect. 

~*~

Neville attempted to Floo to Snape's home on Saturday, only to find the Floo blocked. Although Neville had the address for Snape's home, he'd never been in that area before and he wasn't entirely sure of the destination part of the Apparition. In the end he solved his dilemma by asking Filius' assistance. It turned out he had been to Snape's home before, so he knew of a safe place to side-along Neville into the neighborhood. He left him at the end of the block after pointing out the home at the end of a row of dilapidated houses as the one that belonged to Severus. 

Neville walked purposefully down the street and up to the front door of the last house on Spinner's End. Before he could even knock, the door was flung open and Snape jerked him inside.

“You walked through this neighborhood dressed in wizards robes? What were you thinking, Longbottom? It's a wonder you didn't get mugged.”

“In the first place,” answered Neville calmly, “I didn't see a single person out there, much less one who might mug me. And in the second place, I had no idea you lived in a Muggle neighborhood or I would have dressed more appropriately. And thirdly, if you'd unblocked the bloody Floo I wouldn't have had to Apparate here.”

He had the grace to look chagrined. “Sorry, Longbottom... err... Neville. I didn't even think about the Floo being blocked. I rarely have visitors aside from Lucius or Draco. I simply didn't remember.”

Neville looked around. The home was much nicer on the inside than the outside implied, but it was still quite small. Judging from the other homes in the neighborhood, there wasn't any excess space out back either. “Were you thinking of running the business from your home, Severus? I'm not sure you have the room necessary if we are going to try to duplicate various growing conditions. Although since we'll be dealing with Muggles I suppose being in a Muggle area isn't totally a bad idea. Still...”

“Still,” Severus finished for him, “the target market for our products is not going to live around Spinner's End, are they? To be honest I haven't really planned that far out. I figured first we would need to decide what to start with, perhaps one or two items, and build from there.”

Following Severus as he led the way to the kitchen to put the kettle on for tea, Neville voiced his opinion. “My thoughts are the fungi first, either the truffles or the Matsutake, they are some of the highest end items and, if we could get a decent crop of them, we'd have a good start. Although, I was thinking this, at least while we're first starting out, until we can build up a surplus of funds to see us through, we could work as the middlemen. Rather than producing the items ourselves, as wizards, it would be quite easy for us to travel about and locate and procure the items, keep them fresh under a stasis spell and then arrange the sales.”

Severus frowned. “That was not the direction I had pictured this business going, Longbottom.”

“I agree, Severus. As a Herbologist, I want it to be focused on actually growing and perfecting things ourselves. But that could take some time to manage successfully. I don't know what savings you have, but the Longbottom coffers are pretty low. Still, if we managed to get something to sell and set up some contacts, it could give us some start up funds as well as an opening into our target market.”

“You've been giving this a lot of thought in the last couple days, haven't you?” asked Severus with a knowing smirk. “And doing research on your own too, I'll bet.”

Neville nodded with a smile. “The idea of all that Muggle money is enticing. It's not that I don't like my job at Hogwarts, but I'd love to be able to afford to spend all my time mucking about with research and actually growing things, rather than trying to stuff knowledge into the brains of dunderheads who couldn't care less.” 

“Believe me, boy, I fully understand that position,” replied Severus with a snort. “In response to your comment, I don't have a huge amount of savings but I do own this house free and clear...” Seeing Neville”s doubtful look, he continued on, “Oh, I know it doesn't look like it's worth much, but there is a Muggle developer who's been buying up all these old houses. Apparently it's fashionable to build fancy new digs in these old run down areas. 'Historic renovation zones,' he calls them. I've been holding out, but if the price is right, I'd be willing to sell. I can use the proceeds as seed money for the new business.”

Neville shook his head in wonder. “Muggles are mad.”

Severus nodded in agreement. “It certainly seems that way sometimes. I'll need to find somewhere to live in the meantime, at least until we can buy a suitable place for the business. Maybe Lainey would give me a long-term discount on one of the rooms at the Three Broomsticks.”

Neville's eyes suddenly went wide and he gasped. “I've got the perfect place for you to live and we could base our research and run the business from there as well,” he exclaimed. “And best of all it's free! The estate already has the greenhouses and such that we might need, and there's plenty of room to expand the gardens when we get to that point. The house is huge and there are house-elves if we need extra help. And, the icing on the cake is, it's near a Muggle area that has lots of upscale restaurants and such that we could sell to.”

Severus looked at him curiously. “That all sounds too good to be true. Where on earth is this place?”

“It's _my_ inheritance, Toadstool Keep, the Longbottom family estate in Gloucestershire. The Muggles call the area nearby the Cotswolds. They flock to the area in droves on holiday.”

“But, doesn't your grandmother live there?” asked Severus in confusion.

“Live there? Errr... no she doesn't... err... live there. I guess you hadn't heard, Severus. My gran died a couple months ago.”

“No, I actually hadn't. I'm sorry to hear that, Neville. Augusta was a formidable witch, and very well respected in the wizarding world. Please accept my condolences.”

“Thank you, Severus. I appreciate it. The fact of the matter is though, the house sits empty for most of the year while I'm at Hogwarts. It's exactly what we need.”

~*~

Hermione was surprised at her mum's cunning. On the drive up to Suzanne's cousin's home, her mum gave her some advice. “Now, Hermione, if you are able to dispel this spirit or whatever it is, don't make it look too easy. According to Suze, Angela has already had several so-called experts in to solve her little problem, all unsuccessful thus far. She is willing to pay a good price to have it taken care of and she can afford it. So just make it look as if you had to put forth a bit of effort.”

“Mum! Are you suggesting I try to pull the wool over Angela's eyes?”

“Not at all, sweetie. Look at it this way. She has a job she wants done, and you may have the expertise to handle it. Don't sell yourself short. Your skills are valuable.”

Upon arrival Suzanne was waiting there with Angela so Linda took them both away for an afternoon of lunch and shopping to give Hermione time alone to get a 'read' on the 'spirit.' It didn't take her long to discover that Angela's ghost was actually a female poltergeist named Matilda. 

As Hermione walked into the kitchen she saw her banging pots and pans together, making an unbelievable racket. “Hello, there,” greeted Hermione sweetly.

The poltergeist turned in shock. “You can see me?” she cried. She flew up to the ceiling in the far corner of the room and looked down at Hermione suspiciously. “You aren't one of the kind who lives here. You're a witch.”

“Yes, I am. My name is Hermione. What's yours?”

They did nothing but talk for the next two hours. Matilda was at first snide and sarcastic, but eventually warmed up a bit. “So I suppose you're another one here to try to get me to leave. It won't do you any good you know. You can't force a poltergeist to leave a place they've moved into.”

“Oh, I do know that indeed. I just want to try to understand you. Why do you stay here? Isn't it lonely for you? From what I've heard the owner doesn't come around much.”

“Well, yes, there is that,” replied Matilda sulkily. “But when she is here I have loads of fun.”

“Hmmm...”

“What?” asked Matilda, hanging upside down from the light fixture.

“Oh, nothing,” answered Hermione, innocently. “I was just remembering a poltergeist I knew from the boarding school I went to. He was always playing tricks or pranks on someone. Quite annoying he was.”

“A school? You had a poltergeist at your school?”

“Yes, Peeves was his name. He loves it there, every year a new crop of students to terrorize, a never ending supply of victims. I'm sure he's in his glory.” Hermione watched Matilda out of the corner of her eye. The poltergeist seemed to sit up and take notice. “Oh, I think I hear my mum's car. She must be back. I'll have to go now. It was nice meeting you, Matilda.”

“Wait! I want you to tell me more about that school and this Peeves character.”

“I really have to go. Maybe Angela would let me come back and talk to you again.”

“I suppose you're going to try to convince me to stop annoying that Angela woman,” complained Matilda. 

“Not at all. If you do, she won't need me to come back next week, will she?” She smiled at Matilda conspiratorially.

~*~

Hermione returned twice more before allowing Matilda to convince her that it would be an excellent idea indeed to show her how to get to Hogwarts. Hermione informed Angela that she would be returning the following week to relocate Matilda to her new home. Once that was complete, Angela could move back in and see if the job Hermione had done met with her approval. If she wasn't happy Hermione assured her she would return Matilda and Angela wouldn't owe her a thing. Of course Hermione knew there was no way she would be able to convince Matilda to return, but then Angela didn't know that. Perhaps some of her mum's cunning was rubbing off! 

Arriving late Saturday morning, Hermione stowed Matilda with all her unearthly belongings into her beaded bag and Apparated to Hogwarts. She waited by the gate, expecting Hagrid to come open it for her. 

In truth, she was beginning to feel just a bit guilty about inflicting another poltergeist on the school, and was having second thoughts about what she was about to do. Just then, instead of Hagrid, Headmistress McGonagall showed up. With her lips pursed, she glared at Hermione and said sourly, “Miss Granger, to what do we owe the honor of this visit? I'm sure it can't be any more nonsense about your N.E.W.T.s, as I made it quite clear the last time you were here that there is nothing I can do to solve your dilemma.”

Hermione frowned as she studied her former mentor, unsure why she was being so rude. “I'm here for a visit, professor. I'm having tea with Hagrid.”

“Oh.” Minerva seemed to visibly deflate a bit, as if she'd been preparing for an argument from Hermione. “Very well, then. Have a nice visit.”

Hermione watched as the headmistress strode off down the path back toward the castle. Suddenly she didn't feel guilty at all. Opening her bag she let Matilda out and reminded the poltergeist of their agreement. 

“Don't worry, Hermione. I won't tell anyone how I got here. Thank you. This will be so much more fun than that empty old manor house.”

“Good luck then, Matilda,” said Hermione with a smile. 

“You can call me Tillie, love,” she called as she flew off toward the school. 

Hermione headed off down the path. She really did have a date with Hagrid for tea.

Two weeks later Hermione got a lovely thank you letter from Angela with a check for twelve hundred pounds. Hermione was astounded. While she had made four visits to Angela's, all told she probably hadn't spent more than eight or ten hours of her time. Sure that it must be a mistake and the woman had added one too many zeros to the check, Hermione called her up. 

Angela assured Hermione that the check was right and she was happy to pay it. She said she had paid as much to the others who had taken her money and proved to be nothing but charlatans. In fact, she was so happy with Hermione's work that she asked if she might recommend her to some friends who were having somewhat similar issues. Hermione considered the idea briefly. Then, looking down at the check, she thought to herself, _Why the hell not?_ She gave Angela leave to recommend her, explaining that while she didn't have an office yet, she could be reached at her mobile number. 

~*~

Neville took Severus to Toadstool Keep the following weekend. They inspected the greenhouses and the fields which had lain fallow for a good many years. There were also empty barns and stables where Neville's great-grandfather had kept Granians for racing. Severus pointed out, if they decided to pursue cheese making or raising beef, the livestock could be kept there. There were many minor repairs needed, but for the most part everything seemed to be structurally sound.

After checking all of the out buildings, Severus wanted to see the inside of the keep. Neville glanced up at the house, which was closer to a mansion actually, and nervously checked his pocket watch. “I don't know, Severus. Maybe we should be getting back. We can take a look at the house next time.”

Severus didn't seem to notice Neville's unease. “No. Before I make the final deal to sell Spinners End, I want to make sure I have a place to go to. Let's check it now while we're here. You really haven't lived here in several years. For all you know it could be over-run by doxies or something.”

Neville looked up at the house and taking a deep breath he let it all out in a sigh. “All right, Severus, let's go see.”

They entered through the back door, which led into the kitchens. Neville was greeted cordially by a staff of four house-elves. There was one who was more wrinkled and ancient even than Potter's elf, Kreacher. He was obviously the senior elf and he bowed low and greeted Neville with respect. “Welcome home, young master. We's was not being expecting you, young sir. Else there would be luncheon prepared and your rooms aired out. We shall punish ourselves for our neglect.”

Neville pulled the old elf up from his bow. Severus was not entirely sure the elderly elf could have got up without help. He could actually hear the creature's bones creaking as Neville helped him straighten up. “There will certainly be no punishing going on under my watch, Griswold. And we won't be staying tonight so there's no need to air the bedrooms. But we might enjoy a light luncheon in the solarium. This is my friend and business partner, Professor... errr... that is... Mr. Snape. He will be staying here in the near future so you could have a suite of rooms readied for him, if you will.”

“Very well, young sir. Does you has a preference as to which suite?”

“Errmm... No, but something far from the East wing would be best, I think. One of the guest suites down Uncle Alfie's wing. I think Uncle Leo's suite would be a good choice.”

“Very good, sir.” Griswold turned to address Severus. “Your rooms will be's ready whenever you wishes, Mr. Snape, sir.”

He nodded and replied, “Thank you, Griswold. I shall be ready to move in within a week or two.”

Neville turned to lead the way. “Come Severus, I'll show you the lay out of the ground floor, so you'll be able to find your way around.”

Following Neville, Severus couldn't help but wonder at the place in which the boy had grown up. He'd never really considered Neville's background, but from the grounds and the size of the house the Longbottom fortunes, at one time, must have rivaled the Malfoys'. It all was shrouded now, however, in an air of genteel poverty. Neville gave him a tour of several parlors, a drawing room, a dining room, a breakfast room, a ballroom, a solarium, a library, a den and two separate studies. Neville suggested they could each use one of the studies as their personal office. 

Standing at the base of the staircase, Severus looked up and asked, “My rooms will be on the first floor?”

Neville looked upstairs reluctantly and nodded. “I suppose we could go and take a quick look. I'm sure Griswold will have apoplexy if you see them without them being cleaned up first, but let's go up.”

At the top of the stairs there were three wings, one straight ahead and one to each side. Neville led him down the West wing. “This was my Uncle Alfie's wing. You're welcome to any of the suites, but you probably won't want Alfie's rooms. They stink of cigar smoke. A filthy habit, Gran used to say. Although they've been cleaned innumerable times, Griswold has never been successful in removing the god awful smell. It vexes him to no end.”

Neville choose a door, opening it slowly and looking around before he led Severus in, almost as if he expected to find someone inside. “I rather thought this suite would suit you. You have a large sitting room, with a nice terrace through those French doors. Your bathroom is through there, and the bedroom there. Feel free to make any changes or additions or ask the house-elves for anything you may need.” 

Severus was surprised to see what rooms Neville thought might suit him. He'd expected something done up in green and silver, or perhaps varying shades of black. Surprisingly, instead the room was light and airy with sandstone colored walls and accents of sea blue and terra cotta. He found it soothing.

Neville opened a door at the opposite end of the room. “I especially thought you might appreciate this. You could use it for your personal lab. There's actually a fully equipped potions lab in the basement as my Uncle Leopold was a potioneer. These were his rooms and he used this lab for smaller scale potions and research.”

“These will do nicely, Neville. They are much nicer even than my teacher's quarters at Hogwarts were.”

“Good, I'm glad you approve. Well, we'd best get back down. Griswold and Pippi probably have lunch ready.”

Neville stuck his head out into the hallway, looking both ways before opening the door wide and hurrying Severus back downstairs.

~*~ 

Severus moved into The Keep a couple of weeks later. As promised, the rooms were aired out, thoroughly cleaned and ready for him. The house-elves seemed delighted to have someone in residence for them to wait upon and they doted on him. He drew the line at them handling his Potions paraphernalia and insisted that he would unpack all of the things that were going into his personal lab by himself. 

By the time he settled into bed that night he was quite exhausted and fell asleep practically before his head hit the pillow. He awoke in the middle of the night and could have sworn there was a figure standing at the end of his bed, but as soon as he grabbed his wand from the bedside cabinet and turned, casting a Lumos, there was nothing there. He was so uneasy he actually got up and searched the room, but of course he found no one. Chalking it up to being overly tired, he climbed back into bed. Severus lay awake for a very long time before finally drifting off to sleep again. Just in the final seconds before slumber overtook him, he could have sworn he heard the rattle of the door knob, the creak of the hinge, and then the 'click' of the door being firmly shut.

When morning came, Severus convinced himself he'd been dreaming. He did not feel rested at all. His spine was all kinked up and his legs sore from all the lifting of boxes and reaching up on shelves to store things. He decided a mild pain potion and a nice hot shower was just the ticket to relax his aching muscles. He'd just begun to feel halfway human and was humming an old Beatles tune as he soaped up. He was doing an exceptionally thorough job on his cock, and was just reaching down to give his bollocks a squeeze when...

The door of the shower flew open with a loud bang. “Severus Snape! What are you doing in there?”

“Holy buggering hell! For fuck's sake, Augusta! You're supposed to be dead!” Severus snatched the flannel and frantically tried, rather unsuccessfully, to cover his bits with it.

“I am dead, you idiot! Don't you recognize a ghost when you see one, boy?” sneered the dowager, standing there in all her spectral glory. Still dressed in her formal robes, accessories complete with red leather purse, and vulture-laden hat. “What are you doing here?” she demanded again.

Severus angrily turned off the shower and since it appeared that she had no intention of granting him his privacy he stepped out and grabbed a towel off the rack. “Obviously I'm taking a shower and having a morning wank. What does it look like I'm doing, you harridan?” he replied sarcastically.

“Don't you get snippy with me, young man,” she said. “I want to know what you are doing here, in my home.”

“Well, it's technically not your home anymore, is it, Augusta? Since you're... DEAD! It's belongs to Neville now, doesn't it?”

“Speaking of Neville, where is he? What have you done with him?” 

“Done with him? I haven't done anything with him, you mad harpy. He's at Hogwarts teaching, just as he should be. I am here at the Keep, however, at his invitation. Since we are now partners—”

Suddenly the old lady's eyes narrowed as she studied Severus closely. “Oh my, are you... is he... are the two of you...? Snape, you bastard! Are you buggering my grandson?”

“What!” roared Snape. “Absolutely not. That is not what I meant at all!”

“Well you seem to have made yourself quite at home here. How do I know you haven't Imperiused him to steal his inheritance or something?” she asked suspiciously.

“Oh, for Merlin's sake!” Severus stalked out of the bathroom to the hearth in his sitting room. Grabbing the jar from the mantle, he threw a good pinch of Floo-powder into the fireplace as he shouted, “Longbottom! Get your arse over here. RIGHT NOW!”

~*~

_One Month Later_

Hermione arrived at Grimmauld Place to find Draco at the kitchen counter whipping up something as Harry set the table and added a place for Hermione. She stared at Malfoy in amazement. “ _You're_ cooking brunch?”

Draco flushed and opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Harry before he had a chance. “Draco is a marvelous cook, Hermione,” Harry said, somewhat defensively.

It was Hermione's turn to flush as she realized that she'd sounded more than a bit condescending. “I'm sorry, Malfoy. I just never imagined you doing something so... normal. I would have thought you'd have grown up with servants doing all the cooking and such and never learned how.”

“And you would have been right, Granger. Harry started teaching me how to cook and I've found I rather enjoy it. Now sit down there, you two, and be amazed.”

Hermione was quite surprised to discover that she really was amazed. Draco served up a lovely fritatta with prosciutto, onions, spinach, mushrooms, peppers and a creamy cheese. She groaned in ecstasy. “Oh. My. Gods! Malfoy, will you marry me? Where in hell did you learn to cook like this? And don't you dare try to tell me Harry taught you, because, while I know that he may have learned the basic functions in a kitchen, he can't produce a masterpiece like this.”

“Hey!” objected Harry.

“I said Harry _started_ teaching me how to cook. Once I found out how much I enjoyed it I took some classes. Now I've begun experimenting on my own, plus I'm testing some of these products for a friend.”

Hermione paused with her fork halfway to her mouth and glared at him. “Testing? Are you using me as some kind of guinea pig, Malfoy?” She set her fork down and eyed her plate suspiciously, while Harry just kept stuffing his face. “What is in here exactly?” she asked, picking her fork back up and poking at her food cautiously, as if something might jump out at her.

“Not to worry, Granger. All of the ingredients are completely safe and purely Muggle. But a few of the ingredients are very rare and extremely expensive. Some friends of ours are starting a business of procuring rare and highly expensive food items. For example, the ounce or so of the mushrooms I used in our meal cost more than fifteen galleons or in Muggle terms about eighty pounds.”

Hermione swallowed hard and stared at her plate. “Are you serious? For one ounce?”

“Absolutely. That's retail. Matsutake mushrooms cost nearly thirteen hundred pounds per pound. It varies of course based on the market. The cheese is moose milk cheese. I used about two ounces. Retail cost for a pound is is a little over three hundred pounds.”

“That's insane,” said Hermione in a whisper, while Draco nodded in agreement.

Harry had finished his meal, practically licking the plate clean, and was now eying her food. “Are you going to eat the rest of that, Hermione?”

Hermione curled her arm protectively around her plate and growled, “Back off Harry. This is mine.”

Draco laughed and scooped what was left in the pan onto Harry's plate as he sat down between the two to eat his meal. 

“So who are these friends with the expensive food business?” she asked.

“N'ville 'nd Sn'pe,” mumbled Harry with his mouth still full. 

“Swallow your food, Harry! Are you channeling Ron?” she admonished her friend. Then his words sank in and she exclaimed, “Sweet Circe's saggy titties! Did you just say Neville and Snape?”

Draco burst out laughing, nearly choking on his food. “When did you develop such a creative potty mouth, Granger? I don't remember you talking like that back at school.”

“You try living in a tent for nearly a year with two teenaged boys and see what kind of changes happen to your vocabulary, Malfoy. So what's the deal with Neville and Professor Snape? Was that a joke?”

“Not at all.” 

Harry and Draco proceeded to explain the situation.

“... So in the end he was forced to close the Apothecary,” concluded Draco. “My father was more than willing to write off his loan, but Severus insists on paying him back.”

“You know how proud the Professor is,” added Harry. 

“It's a shame,” agreed Hermione. “As a Potions Master, he's brilliant. There is no reason his business should have gone under. Fucking Rita Skeeter. She ruins people's lives with her gossip mongering and she gets away with it. It just isn't right. And I'm really disappointed to hear about Minerva. I thought it was just me, but her refusing to give Snape a job after everything he did is just disgraceful.”

“I thought you were Gryffindor's golden girl. What did McGonagall do to you, Granger?” asked Draco.

So Hermione was forced to explain the whole situation to them. 

“Hermione, I'm sorry you've been having such a time. You should have come and talked to me. Maybe I could have helped somehow,” said Harry.

“I don't know what you could have done, Harry. It seems like they just kept giving me the run around.”

Draco frowned. “I think someone is screwing with you. I've never heard of any age limits on finishing school or even for taking your N.E.W.T.s independently.”

“Well, I don't know, but they weren't being very co-operative down at the Ministry. It doesn't matter to me an anymore about getting my N.E.W.T.s. I've picked up a few free lance jobs and it's been going quite well. So well, in fact, that I really think it's something I can turn into a full time business. I've started looking for a place to open an office and put out a shingle. Oh, and it needs to be somewhere accessible to Muggles. Do either of you two have any suggestions?”

~*~

_Two Months Later_

Hermione sat behind her desk and opened a letter from her first 'official' client. The case had been wrapped up six weeks earlier. It had been a for a man whose summer home was suddenly being haunted, and he wanted answers. It turned out the man's grandmother had recently passed and had left some financial papers that no one knew of, pertaining to the man's inheritance. She was desperate for him to have the information, and was trying to let him know. 

Hermione smiled to herself as she picked the note inviting her to dinner and the symphony. She recalled the conversation that had led to her first date with Timothy Oglethorpe.

_They sat at the rough kitchen table of the modest cottage her client referred to as his 'summer home.'_

_Holding the packet of papers that he had unearthed at her direction, by following his grandmother's instructions, he eyed her speculatively. “You know before all this I'd have said that ghosts and spirits and such were a load of codswallop, but now... Well, you and Gran have made a believer out of me. Are you a betting woman, Ms. Granger?”_

_“I'd have to say, no, not normally, Mr. Oglethorpe. But then again, I suppose it depends on the wager,” she answered._

_“Here's my proposal. I will either pay you in full the fee we agreed upon in our contract, or...” he paused for effect and fingered the manilla envelope that held the packet of papers, as yet unopened. “I will pay you one percent of the total worth of whatever is in here.”_

_Hermione looked around the cottage, a simple country home, it didn't speak of wealth or money and yet Annabel Oglethorpe had been desperate for her grandson to have this inheritance. Still it might be something as simple as his grandfather's pocket watch, Hermione really had no idea. “Make it five percent and I'll agree.”_

_“Ahh...” responded Oglethorpe. “A negotiator, I like that. Two percent.”_

_“Four,” countered Hermione with a smile._

_“Let's say three and you agree to go out to dinner with me.”_

_Hermione laughed. “Well, at the very least I'm guaranteed a decent meal. All right, Mr. Oglethorpe, you have a deal,” she said, extending her hand._

_“If we're going to dinner, you must also agree to call me Timothy,” he said, taking her hand._

_“Very well, and I'm Hermione.”_

_Timothy tore open the envelope and examined the papers carefully: stocks, and bonds bought years ago when he was no more than a toddler. He looked up at her with a grin. “It looks like your wager paid off very well, Hermione. I won't know for sure until I have my accountants and lawyers check it all out, but I'd estimate the value to be in excess of four hundred thousand pounds.”_

_Hermione's eyes grew round. “Oh my, I can't hold you to our bet, it would be too much.”_

_“Don't be silly. You took a gamble and you won. It could have just as easily been Gran willing me twenty-seven cats; and then, all you'd have got out of the deal was dinner and eight tenths of a cat.”_

_After discussing it with her dad, she had decided to have him reinvest the funds and pay her a dividend check each month. It gave her a small but steady monthly income to build on that helped to offset her office expenses. Plus, her dad met Timothy and found someone to talk investing with, and she'd gained a friend who enjoyed going out to dinner and to the theater or symphony, on occasion._

Mrs. Figg entered Hermione's office with a stack of files and a couple of memos. When Hermione had decided to open her own business, she'd known that she would need staff to help her. Yet she didn't think it would work out hiring a Muggle office girl. 

She'd hit upon the idea of hiring Squibs. Arabella Figg had lived her entire life with a foot in both worlds, and she wouldn't be shocked by magic. After discussing the idea with Arabella, she'd learned that most Squibs could readily see and communicate with ghosts. Hermione had immediately offered a part time job to Mr. Filch. She'd heard through the grapevine that he'd recently retired from his job as caretaker at Hogwarts and was finding retirement a bit boring. Who better to work for her than a man who for the past thirty years had dealt with ghosts, poltergeists and recalcitrant students? He'd snapped up her offer and he and the current Mrs. Norris had rented a room from Mrs. Figg. Hermione couldn't help but wonder if there wasn't a little something more going on between the two, as they seemed quite friendly whenever they thought she wasn't looking. 

At any rate, Arabella was taking care of the office and Argus was her assistant in the field. He would often accompany her to assess a case. Then she had him take care of the more simple, straightforward ones.

“Here's the files you wanted, deary, on that case Argus closed last week in Dingwall. And there are messages, one from Harry and one about a referral for a new case. I think you'll want to handle this one yourself though, love. The clients are wizards.”

“Wizards? Really? How on earth did they learn about Things?” Hermione called her business 'Things' as shorthand for the full name which was: Things That Go Bump in the Night-Paranormal Investigations: H. J. Granger and Associates. 

“The word is that you actually got recommended by one of our Muggle clients. That Crenshaw woman with the fancy inn near Oxford.”

“Ahh, yes, Clarissa. Rather than rid her of her spirits, she wanted us to provide proof that she actually had them. She said it would give her inn a draw to bring in tourists,” recalled Hermione with a chuckle.

“Yes, well, it seems that she somehow has business dealings with a couple of blokes who mentioned that they were having trouble with a ghost. She gave one of 'em your card, and he called earlier to make an appointment. In fact he should be here anytime. I figured out he's a wizard because he said he knew you from Hogwarts, a Mr— ”

“Longbottom,” called a voice from her office doorway. “Hello, Hermione.”

“Neville!”

 

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione rushed forward to great her old friend with a big hug. “Neville, it's been so long. I'm so very happy to see you. Come in, come in. Have a seat.” She indicated the small sitting area to one side of her office by the fireplace. Turning to Mrs. Figg, she asked, “Arabella, would you mind bringing us tea, please?”

“Of course, dearie, I'll have something whipped up in few minutes.”

Hermione hurried over to sit on the sofa and grinned at Neville like a mad woman. “Neville, it is so good to see you. It's been years!” she exclaimed. “Tell me what you've been up to. Of course, I'd heard that you took on the Herbology post at Hogwarts. And Draco and Harry told me that you and Snape had started some sort of rare food business. Mrs. Figg has just informed me that Clarissa Crenshaw referred you to us because you have a ghost—”

“Hermione, slow down,” said Neville with a laugh. “You're going to hyperventilate.”

“Sorry,” she replied with a smile, pausing to take a deep breath. “It's just that aside from Harry and Draco, and now Arabella and Mr. Filch, I haven't really had a chance to talk to anyone from the old days. Since Harry and Gin broke up, Ron has made himself scarce along with the rest of the Weasleys and I really haven't had a chance to see anyone else.”

Just then Mrs. Figg brought in the tea tray with some sandwiches, crisps, and a lovely assortment of biscuits. She set it on the low table in front of the sofa. “Thank you so much Arabella. You needn't have gone to so much trouble.”

“You skipped lunch again, lovey. Don't think I didn't notice either. I figured you could have a bit of nosh while you catch up with your friend here.”

“Oh my goodness, how rude of me. I didn't even introduce you. Arabella Figg this is my friend, Neville Longbottom. Neville, Mrs Figg. She works for me now here at 'Things,' along with Mr. Filch.”

Neville reached out his hand to give hers a shake. “Mrs. Figg, I'm pleased to meet you. Harry speaks very highly of you.”

“Oh, goodness. Mr. Longbottom,” the old lady gushed. “Your reputation precedes you, young man. 'The Serpent Slayer', that's what they call you. I do thank you for your service during the war. It is a real honor to finally make your acquaintance, sir.”

Neville blushed, and mumbled his thanks. 

Turning to Hermione, she shook her finger, “You eat something. Everything's done out there for today so I'm taking off early.” She cocked her head toward Neville before she left and whispered, “Make sure she eats, she skips far too many meals that one does.”

“Sorry,” apologized Hermione. “She's been a godsend, but she does try to mother me.” She poured Neville's tea and asked, “Do you still take milk and one sugar?” He nodded in reply, and loaded a few nibbles on his plate. As she handed him his cup she asked innocently, “So... 'The Serpent Slayer'... huh?”

They both looked at each other and burst into a fit of giggles. It was just like old times in the Gryffindor common room. 

~*~

After having a good chat and catching up on old times, Hermione brought over her laptop to take notes pertinent to Neville's case. By the time they were done she had several pages of information and more questions than answers.

“So, even though you can see her and she does respond to you occasionally, she won't reveal why she's haunting your family home?”

“No, and I have asked repeatedly, believe me. She just gets this stubborn look and fades away. Yet she antagonizes Severus to no end. They were never friends in real life, but as far as I know he's never done anything to cause her such enmity.”

“Hmmm...” Hemione crossed her arms over her chest and sat back in her chair, a look of intense concentration on her face. 

“Do you have any ideas?” asked Neville hopefully.

“Several, but at this point, they're all pure speculation.”

“Care to share?”

“Okay, but remember, these are just theories. First off, was your gran especially scared of dying by any chance?”

“Not that I'm aware of. I mean obviously, I don't think anyone _wants_ to die, but I don't think she had any specific fear of it. Why?”

“Well, I always remember something Sir Nicholas told Harry once. He said the reason most ghosts stayed around is because they fear death, so they refuse to pass over, choosing to remain in the realm of the living. Of course, he also told Harry that only wizard folks could become ghosts. I've learned that isn't the case, but it may be that he believed it to be the truth. In the few months I've been in the paranormal business, I've learned that Muggles have some different theories, some of which do make sense to me, actually.”

“Like what?” asked Neville, looking interested. “Since we started Seville Imports, I've had to deal with Muggles more than I ever have before in my life. Some of the things they do seem very strange to me, but on the other hand some are totally brilliant.”

“Well, one theory is that sometimes spirits remain for a specific purpose.” Without revealing any identities due to confidentiality clauses, Hermione told him about Timothy's gran, and how she'd been desperate to give Timothy the information about the hidden inheritance. 

“But if Gran stayed to tell me something, why doesn't she just tell me?”

Hermione considered for a moment. Then she speculated, “What if it's not you she needs to tell? Maybe it's someone else, but for some reason she's bound to the family home so she can't go to them.”

“If that's the case, then why not just tell me or Severus and we could help her?”

“Ummm... good point. Well, how about this idea? What if she couldn't tell for some reason, like a Secrecy Charm or an Unbreakable Vow?”

“Hermione, the penalty for breaking an Unbreakable Vow is death. How would that deter a ghost?They're already dead. What would they have to fear?” 

Hermione's eyes got huge as an idea formed. “What if it wasn't death? What if it was being trapped here for all eternity, never allowed to move on? If a spirit truly wanted to pass over to be with loved ones on the other side, then that would be a horrible fate.”

“I've never heard of anything like that,” said Neville.

“Neither have I, Nev, but that doesn't mean it couldn't exist, or something like it. There are thousands of charms and spells and hexes and such that we never learned at Hogwarts, or that have faded away into antiquity, but it could still be possible.”

“I suppose that's true,” agreed Neville, but he seemed skeptical. 

Hermione steepled her fingers and tapped them against her lips. “Okay here's another idea. What are the circumstances of your gran's death, Neville?”

Neville frowned, his eyebrows lowered into a scowl that reminded her of Professor Snape. “What do you mean?”

“Well, had she been ill, or had a serious medical condition? Did she fall, or was she injured? Did she die peacefully in her sleep? Did she have an accident? Or was it something else?”

“She collapsed in her garden. She was found there by one of her house elves, Dippi. She was already gone. She was old. That does happen sometimes. Are you trying to imply that she was murdered?”

“Well, Neville, it's just another theory. Some believe that the spirits of people who have met with foul play sometimes return to try to identify their killer, that their soul can not rest until justice is served. Here's something to add to the theory. What if it only looked like she died naturally? What if she was poisoned? Who do you think she might suspect?”

“Hermione! For Merlin's sake! Severus did not kill my gran.”

“Oh, good Godric, Neville! I'm not saying that he did. I'm saying that she might not know who did it, but if she were poisoned, Professor Snape might be someone she would suspect. It might be any number of other factors that could make her suspicious of him. Like maybe all she knows about her killer is he had connections to Death Eaters, or perhaps he's someone who once worked at Hogwarts... Hey now, there's a theory. If it was someone who worked at Hogwarts, then she might be worried about your safety too, Neville. Thinking that whoever it was might come after you next. I honestly don't suspect him at all, but that's not to say that your gran wouldn't.

“At any rate these are all just speculation at this point. If you want me to take the case, I'll have to come out and do some field work. I may need to spend some time there in order to get a feel for your grandmother and gain her trust. It might be best if I just stayed there for a few days. Perhaps I could come out early next week. Would that be alright?”

“Sure, but I'm at Hogwarts most of the time and Severus will be away on a business trip all next week. You'd be all alone there, just you and the house-elves and Gran. Is that all right?”

“Sounds like the perfect time then. I'll have the place all to myself. If I have a few days alone with her, I might stand a better chance of gaining her confidence.”

Ummm... Neville? Can I ask you something? It's totally unrelated to any of this... It's about Minerva.” Hermione hesitated, unsure if she should involve Neville, after all McGonagall was his boss.

“Minerva? What about her?”

“Have you noticed anything strange lately? Has she been acting oddly or treating people differently?”

“I don't know... I don't think so, not that I've noticed, anyway,” Neville answered. After he gave it some more thought, he added, “Although, to be absolutely honest, I really don't see a lot of her these days. You know she doesn't teach at all any more. I only see her at meals and staff meetings. Occasionally I might pass her in the hallways, but for the most part she spends most of her time in her office. I guess there must be a lot of administrative stuff that takes up her time.”

Hermione looked concerned. “That doesn't sound like the Minerva I remember. I can't imagine her not taking an active role with the students.”

“Why are you asking anyway, Hermione?”

“I don't know. It's just that I heard from Draco how she rejected, out of hand, Professor Snape's request to come back and teach. That in itself doesn't sound like her either, not going to bat for an old colleague. And the fact that she was far less than helpful to me—” 

“What happened between you and Minerva?” asked Neville, curious.

So Hermione launched into whole explanation of what she was now referring to as her N.E.W.T.s fiasco. “You know,” she concluded her story, “I rather like making my own way, and I didn't need any N.E.W.T. scores to do it. So, I really don't care now that she wouldn't help me. But she was downright rude to me when I went to...” Hermione hesitated. She'd almost revealed herself as Matilda's accomplice. “...errr... visit Hagrid a few weeks ago. 

“That is odd, isn't it? You were always one of her favorite students.”

“It is. But I guess that I'm not going to worry about it,” said Hermione with a sigh. “Her behavior just seemed strange to me and I wondered if anyone else had noticed anything.” 

She saved all her files and closed her laptop. “So tell me about Toadstool Keep.”

~*~

Hermione arrived at the keep at the beginning of the week. After much discussion with Neville, she had decided not to place herself in Augusta's wing of the house. That might seem too confrontational. She decided since Neville's grandmother seemed to like to hang around the professor's rooms to antagonize him, she would stay in that wing. She requested the guest suite right across the hall. 

The first night there was very quiet. Nothing much happened. Although Hermione did think she heard footsteps in the hall just as she was falling asleep. She couldn't be sure if they were the nocturnal wanderings of Mrs. Longbottom or a figment of her own dreams. 

The second day proved more fruitful. In the morning Hermione caught a glimpse of a shadow in the corner of the library. Then, later in the afternoon, she sat at Neville's desk, reviewing the notes she had printed out since the Keep did not have electricity for her laptop. Suddenly, across the hall in very same library, she noticed a rocking chair moving to and fro rather vigorously. She sat and stared at the damned thing for several minutes and it never once slowed down. In fact, if anything it rocked even more determinedly. 

Not taking her eyes off the chair, Hermione slowly walked over and stood directly in the doorway. “Mrs. Longbottom? Augusta... if you don't mind my use of your first name.” The chair stopped moving and the room was deadly silent. “Augusta, I'm a friend of Neville's. My name is Hermione Granger. I don't know if you remember me, ma' am. Neville has asked me to come here and talk to you.” There was no response and for some reason, Hermione had a sense that she was now alone in the room. A second later a door slammed upstairs in the vicinity of the East wing and she then was quite sure that she was alone. With a sigh she returned to the desk and made a few notes. Not a lot of progress made, but she felt quite sure that she had at least made contact with the former Longbottom matriarch. It was a start.

From that point on there were an increasing number of incidents that Hermione attributed to Augusta. She refused to show herself, but there were other manifestations. Several times, Hermione got that—prickly, hair standing up on the back of your neck sensation—that you got when you were being watched. A couple times as she was walking by the entrance to the East wing she felt definite cold spots. She heard footsteps when there was no one around. The French doors leading onto the balcony in her room were thrown wide open, when she knew that she had shut them tightly. And that damn chair in the library kept rocking. But Augusta refused to respond to any of her entreaties to communicate with her. Hermione hoped her presence in the house would eventually wear down Augusta's barriers and she would agree to talk to her. 

In fact, she told her just that as she was heading up to bed at the end of the third day. Standing at the top of the stairs, looking down the hallway of the east wing Hermione shouted, “I hope you know that ignoring me isn't going to work. I'm not going to leave, so you might as well come out and talk to me.” 

Hermione paused, hoping for some sort of response. When none was forthcoming she muttered, “I can be just as stubborn as you can.”

That night Hermione awoke to the distant chime of the grandfather clock from downstairs. Two a.m. She yawned and rubbed eyes. Then she yelped loudly, when she rolled over to find Augusta Longbottom standing right next to her bed staring down at her. “Bloody hell! I try to get you to talk to me for the past three days and instead you show up at two in the fucking morning looming over my bed!”

“Watch that mouth girl! Why are you here? Why are you hanging about my house, harassing me?” snapped Augusta in a surly tone. 

Hermione sat up, pulling the blankets over her lap. “I'm here at Neville's request, and it _is_ his house now, isn't it?” answered Hermione, not realizing that her words echoed Snape's almost exactly.

“Hmmmph! Yes it is, and I don't need you or that smart-mouthed Potion master reminding me of that,” Augusta replied. “It does belong to Neville now. But I still have ties here.”

Hermione inched forward to the edge of the bed. Looking up at Neville's grandmother, she couldn't help but think that the woman was just as intimidating in death as she had been in life. Still, the whole reason she was here was to try to communicate with her and she was finally getting her chance. She asked softly, “What kind of ties, Augusta? What is it that is keeping you here?”

The old lady sniffed. “I don't believe that is any of your business, young lady.”

“Well actually, it is,” explained Hermione gently. “You see, that's what my business is. People hire me to help them deal with ghosts and spirits and such—” 

“You think you can force me out of my home!” she shouted.

“No, not at all. That isn't why I've come... not to force you to leave. It's to try to figure out why you feel you need to be here. Neville's worried about you. He wants you to be happy, to move on. But if there's something holding you here, something that he or we can do to help you... Well, since you wouldn't talk to him, he asked me to come and try to figure it all out. Because that's what I do now, you see.”

“And what could _you_ possibly do to help me?”

“I'm not entirely sure,” answered Hermione honestly. “But I'm willing to try. If you tell me the reason you are still here, perhaps together we could figure it out.”

Augusta floated over toward the door. Hermione stood, gathering the blanket around her shoulders to ward off the chill as she attempted to follow her. 

Augusta turned and said, “I'll think about it.” In the blink of an eye, she was gone.

“Bloody diva ghosts, and their fucking dramatic exits,” mumbled Hermione. She would have loved nothing better than to crawl back under the covers and go back to sleep, but instead she went out to the writing desk in her sitting room to record the encounter.

It was nearly an hour later, before she finished and headed back to bed. Of course, once she got there, she couldn't fall asleep no matter how tired she felt. 

Hermione let her mind wander back to the previous weekend and her date with Timothy. They weren't a couple by any means, but he was fun and flirty and terrific in bed. It had been a long dry spell in the sex department for Hermione before meeting Tim, and he made her feel desirable. 

As she thought of the handsome Muggle her fingers wandered below the covers and she fantasized about having him there with her. It wasn't long before she was moaning loudly as she envisioned the wicked things he could do with his tongue, fingers, and various other body parts. Knowing she was alone she wasn't worried about Silencing Spells. Just as she was getting close she heard the sound of soft footsteps and her bedroom door creaking open. 

“Oh, for fuck's sake, Augusta! Can't a girl even masturbate in privacy? Go away!” declared Hermione without even opening her eyes. 

“Miss... Granger?” came the disbelieving voice.

Recognizing that distinctive baritone immediately, Hermione jackknifed to a sitting position and looked disbelievingly at her doorway. “Professor Snape?” They stared at each other in horror for several long unending seconds. Then Hermione grabbed the covers and flopped back down on the bed, throwing them over her head, like an ostrich hiding it's head in the sand. She begged desperately, “Oh my gods! Go away, professor. Please, please... Just go away!”

~*~

Not knowing what else to do, Severus backed away, closing the door as quietly as he could. He stood there for several seconds, wondering if he could have imagined the encounter, but at that point, even he didn't have the courage to open the door back up to check. Besides, it was just too bizarre for even his twisted mind to have come up with something like that out of the blue.

What in hell's name was Hermione Granger doing at the Keep? Why hadn't Neville warned him? Of course it might have something to do with the fact that he wasn't actually supposed to be returning for another three days. And he certainly wouldn't have come home in the wee hours of the morning, but for the fact that his Portkey had been delayed. 

Still, some notice would have been appreciated, he thought. It at least would have prevented him from walking in on what he had assumed to be Augusta trying to aggravate him with her moaning and groaning, and instead finding Miss Granger on the edge of... 

Damn! How was he ever going to look her in the eye after this? He'd just pretend it hadn't happened, he decided. So unless she brought it up—and why on earth would she—it had never happened. 

He lay in his bed hoping sleep would consume him. However, his mind continued to travel a hundred miles an hour. If it never happened, why couldn't he stop replaying those moments over and over? If it never happened, how come he couldn't get rid of the vision of her wide amber eyes startled and staring straight at him, her lips plump and full as if she'd been biting them in the throws of self induced passion, her hands buried somewhere beneath the covers—Oh for Salazar's sake! He was never going to be able to look at the girl the same way again. 

~*~

Hermione slept late the next morning, not going to breakfast until half past nine. She'd assumed, or at least hoped, that the professor would be up and about his business already. Unfortunately for her, Severus had arrived just before her. She paused awkwardly on the threshold for an instant before pressing onward and taking her seat. She asked Pippi to bring her normal breakfast fare of tea, toast, a cup of yogurt and some fresh fruit. 

Turning to Severus, she smiled slightly, trying to greet him as if nothing at all had happened in the dead of night. “Good morning, sir, I didn't expect you to return home so soon. Neville had said that you would be gone all week.”

Severus looked at her over the top of the morning paper as he replied, “Yes, Miss Granger, that was the original plan. However, my business concluded earlier than expected.”

Pippi entered with a breakfast tray containing Hermione's choices as well as a full English breakfast for Severus. She refilled his coffee and popped off back to the kitchens. 

Hermione bit her lips, still nervous, but trying to act normal. “I assume that you have spoken with Neville by now, professor, and he has explained my presence here?”

“No need to continue with the honorifics. It's, Severus, if you please. After all, I am no longer anyone's professor. May I assume you do not object to my use of your first name?” At her nod he continued, “Very well then, Hermione. Yes, I did Floo-call Neville earlier this morning and he informed me why you are here. As ridiculous as it sounds, he claims that you have started some sort of 'ghost busting' business. I take it he has hired you to come here and commune with his grandmother.” He snorted derisively. “Let me guess. Is your tag line, _who ya' gonna call_ Or perhaps the logo on your business cards is that little pointy headed ghost in a red circle with a line through him?” To illustrate his point he drew a circle in the air then slashed his finger through it.

Staring him down with an icy glare, she said, “It's not like that at all. You're making it into some kind of joke. It is a real business. Things That Go bump in the Night is a legitimate paranormal investigation agency. The research is all very scientific. My Muggle clients have been most appreciative of my services. I get them the answers they are seeking.”

Taking a slow sip of his coffee, he rolled his eyes in response to her defense. “So, you are here to rid us of the aggravating Augusta, I assume?”

Before Hermione could answer a shriek arose from the hallway. “Liar! You told me you were not here to force me out!” She disappeared and all the doors on the ground floor slammed shut with a loud bang that actually shook the dishes on the table.

Furious, Hermione stood, throwing her napkin down on the table. “Dammit, Snape! It's taken me three days to even get her to appear for me—to talk to me. I'd finally started to gain her trust, to get her to confide in me. Now look what you've done!” Hermione dashed to the door and flung it open with enough force to rattle the teacups again. “Augusta, wait!” she cried as she ran up the stairs.

“Hmmm... that was... unexpected,” he mumbled aloud. “Still, at least she's not thinking about last night.” Folding up the paper and laying it aside, he tucked into his breakfast.

~*~

She spent the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon trying to convince Augusta of her good intentions. Hermione practically talked herself hoarse in an attempt to assure Neville's gran that Snape had it all wrong and that she wasn't going to try to force Augusta to leave the keep against her will. Although refusing to speak to her, Augusta did appear several times just so she could snub her by dropping the temperature by ten degrees, or by scattering all of her notes about, or by slamming out of the room in a huff. Still, Hermione considered it progress, because Augusta was at least appearing to her and interacting, even if it was in a decidedly negative way. 

Hermione blamed this setback entirely on Snape and decided to treat him accordingly. She simply refused to have anything more to do with the prat. She didn't see him at lunch as she skipped it while trying to finesse Augusta out of her tiff. He walked into Neville's study that afternoon while she was trying to organize her notes, but she simply gave him an icy glare and the cold shoulder and left the room without speaking to him at all. That evening she opted to have Pippi bring her a tray in her room rather than share a meal with the odious man. 

After finishing her supper, Hermione answered some business correspondence she had received from Mrs. Figg. The first was regarding an inquiry on a new case in Wales, and another a case in Yorkshire that had been postponed due to the owner being called away unexpectedly. Arabella had also forwarded a note from Timothy Oglethorpe. That brought a smile to Hermione's face. He thanked her for the lovely evening they had shared. He also hinted that, if she were interested, he might be able to get away in a couple of weeks to meet her at Clarissa's inn. Clarissa had hired Things on Tim's referral, and she was an old school friend of his. Hermione jotted a quick note in reply, saying that she would let him know early next week if she would be able to meet him, and sent it back to the office to have Mrs. Figg forward it via Muggle post. 

Hermione lay on the bed to read for a while, but soon dozed off. Although it was early, she hadn't really got much sleep the night before and she was understandably exhausted. Soon, unknown to her, a ghostly hand gently brushed the hair back off her face and pulled the covers up over her, tucking her in. 

Augusta Longbottom looked down upon the sleeping witch and muttered, “You've got guts and determination, girl. I'll credit you that. I do believe you remind me of someone.” She paused and smiled knowingly. “Oh yes, that would be me.” Blowing out the candle on the bedside table, she floated silently from the room. 

~*~

Severus, at first, was quite happy not to have to deal with the pain-in-the-arse know-it-all otherwise known as Hermione Granger. He could just go on about his business and pretend she wasn't even on his radar. But for some reason, she was. He noted that she didn't bother to come to luncheon. He didn't understand why it bothered him, but the more she avoided him the more annoyed he became. 

Around mid afternoon he spotted her entering Neville's study. After an appropriate delay he followed her, only to have her pierce him with a most frigid look and sweep past him without so much as a single word. And she didn't come to dinner that evening either, even though he had waited for her until being informed by Griswold that the Miss had taken a tray in her room. By the end of the first day he was quite put out with the chit. Just who did she think she was, ignoring him like this? 

By day two he had decided that when she came to her senses and approached him, he would allow her to apologize for her rude behavior toward him and was even willing to forgive her. This seemed like a logical plan to him until he discovered that she had no plan to offer an apology. In fact, quite the opposite, she expected him to apologize to her.

“Are you here to apologize? If not, don't even bother talking to me,” she told him bluntly when he cornered her in the library

“You can't be serious,” he declared. “You're mad if you think I am going to apologize. What for? You're the one who has been acting like a petulant child, giving me the silent treatment and avoiding me for the past day and a half.”

“You insulted me. Why shouldn't I ignore you?”

“ _I_ insulted _you_? How on earth do you figure that?” he demanded, his brow furrowed in disbelief.

“You did,” she challenged him, hands on her hips as she glared at him. “You can't pretend that you don't remember. You insulted me when you made fun of my business, and you interfered with my job here by implying things to Augusta that simply aren't true. Your bungling set me back on gaining her trust by several days, I am sure.”

“Your business? Good Lord, I didn't take all that nonsense seriously... So you were actually serious about the whole ghost busting thing?

“Quit referring to it in that manner!” Hermione demanded, stepping forward and poking him with her forefinger angrily. “That's exactly what I'm talking about. It's insulting to me when you make fun of what I do.”

“I thought it was a joke! I thought you were just trying to help Neville. I didn't really believe you were actually pursuing this as a livelihood.” He idly rubbed at the spot on his sternum where she had jabbed him with her pointy little finger. “What happened to you, Granger? I find it hard to comprehend that the brightest witch of the age is making her living working for Muggles, mucking about with haunted houses and ghosts. I would have thought you'd be doing some kind of ground breaking research, or trying to work your way through the ranks of the Ministry so you could take control from within and right all the wrongs in the wizarding world.”

Heaving a sigh, Hermione threw herself onto the settee and gazed into the fireplace. “Well, it's hard to do all those kind of things if no one will give you a toe hold. Any job of any import in the wizarding world requires decent N.E.W.T.s score, and that's hard to provide when they won't even let you take the bloody tests, or at the very least, some kind of equivalency. 

“Besides, you're a great one to talk, aren't you? A renowned Potions master, experienced teacher, war hero, double... triple... whatever you were intelligence agent, and what have you been reduced to? Brokering deals with Muggles—the very same Muggles I deal with, by the way—for things like cheese made from donkey's milk, rare fungi, or coffee beans defecated out of some poor creature's arse.”

Severus dropped down next to her and propped his feet up upon one of Augusta's fine mahogany tables. “When you put it that way, I suppose you're right. I've little room to criticize. One does what one must, doesn't one?”

“I suppose one does, Severus,” she replied, as she leaned back against the arm, turning to study him. “And you know what I say to that? Bugger them... Bugger them all! We're both making a go of it in our own way, aren't we? And we're doing it on our own, by our own rules, instead of dancing to their tune. That should count for something.”

“It should indeed,” he said, the corners of his lips actually quirking up in a small smile. 

A door slammed upstairs and they both started slightly at the unexpected noise. Glancing up toward the ceiling, he asked, “Is she speaking to you at all yet?”

“Not yet, but she will soon, I think. She's at least appearing to me, and she does seem to be listening when I'm speaking to her. She's not communicating, but she'll come around.”

“I am sorry if I set her off and interfered with your work. Now that I realize you are serious.” Lowering his voice to a whisper and sneaking a look above again, he asked, “Do you think you can get rid of her?”

“Honestly, Severus, I meant it when I said I'm not here to drive her away. I'm here to try to find out why she's still here. If this is where she's really meant to be, then so be it and you're stuck with her. But if there is something she needs to be at peace and to move beyond the veil and if I can help her find that, then that's what I intend to do. It would make my job a whole lot easier, though, if she would at least speak to me.”

He snorted and said, “I wish I could get her to stop speaking to me. She's quite annoying. She pops up at the most inconvenient times and she seems to delight in antagonizing me.”

“Yes, Neville did mention that she seems to have taken a particular dislike to you since you've been in residence. Can you think of any reason why that would be? Did you have any direct interaction with her in life that might have colored her opinion of you?”

Severus shook his head. “None that I can think of. I barely knew the woman, really.”

“Hmmm... Would you be willing to tell me about your encounters with her? Until I can get her to talk with me anything I can learn to help me understand her would be useful.”

“Of course I'd be willing to help. I have some business appointments and things to attend to this afternoon, though. Perhaps this evening after dinner we could sit down and discuss it. That is if you intend to come down to dinner, rather than take a tray in your room?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Yes, Severus. I will join you for dinner.” 

~*~

They'd enjoyed a lovely dinner, which came as a bit of a surprise to Hermione. It turned out that Severus could actually be a rather interesting and witty companion when he chose to put forth a bit of effort. After dinner they retired to his study to share some elf made wine and discuss his encounters with Augusta. As usual Hermione took pages upon pages of notes and also asked a good many questions. Some of them seemed relevant while others appeared completely off the wall.

Severus' good mood changed suddenly when Hermione thanked him and declared that she had all the information she needed for now and announced that she would be leaving the next day.

“What the hell do you mean you're leaving in the morning? You haven't really accomplished anything yet,” demanded Severus. 

“That's not true. This is quite a complicated case. You really didn't really expect that I could finish it all up in a week's time did you? I'm sure that Neville understood that it might take longer,” she explained reasonably. “Don't worry. I will be back, probably the week after next. I think I've given Augusta something to consider and by the time I return I'm sure she'll be more willing to talk to me.”

“So in essence, all you've done is come in and got her all riled up. Now you plan to go off on your merry way, leaving me to deal with the harridan?” he asked petulantly.

“I think you've already shown that you are capable of dealing with her antics, Severus. I need to do a bit of research into Augusta's background, to see if she had any enemies and perhaps try figure out exactly what she died from. And believe it or not, I was serious about Things being a legitimate business. I do have other accounts that need my attention as well. I've been here all week and I have let other things slide, so I'll need the week to get caught up. Besides all that, I do have a personal life as well. I have plans for Saturday night and the following weekend as well.” 

“You have plans?” he asked, as one eyebrow arched. “Plans as in _dates_?”

His expression angered her. “Is that so very hard to believe? Why do you make it sound like such a shock that someone might actually want to go out with me?”

“I... No, I didn't mean—” 

“Oh! Because, of course, a swotty know-it-all like me wouldn't ever be interested in anything besides books or research, would I? Of course, little bookworm Hermione would never want to go out to dinner or spend time with a man or Merlin forbid have snog or two or three. Arrrgh! This is why I can never go out with anyone I knew at school! Wizards! You're all impossible!” Hermione stormed out of the room with a slam of the door that would have made Augusta proud.

“Was it something I said?” Severus wondered aloud as he sank back down to his chair and drained his glass of wine. “Why do I get the feeling I'm going to be apologizing yet again?”

 

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione stood awkwardly at the doorway to Severus' study and peered inside. He sat at his desk, going over invoices and scratching notations on a piece of parchment. 

Hermione cleared her throat, but he seemed to be ignoring her. Giving a little sigh, she repeated the action but still received no response. Finally she spoke softly, “Severus?”

He glanced up and gave her what might have passed for a nod of acknowledgment while holding up one finger, as if to indicate, 'one moment,' as he continued to scratch away making notes on the side. 

She couldn't help but wonder, as she shifted nervously from one foot to the other, if he was making snide comments in red ink, possibly correcting the grammar or spelling involved in whatever it was he was working on. Perhaps he was using the opportunity to give her the 'silent treatment' as she had given him.

He finally set aside his quill and looked up. “Sorry to keep you waiting, I was nearly through and didn't want to lose my train of thought. Is there something you needed.”

Hermione gulped and nodded, feeling a bit like she was back at Hogwarts. She walked up and took the seat in front of his desk. “Yes, there is. I feel that I need to apologize to you. I realize that I flew off the handle and sort of jumped down your throat last night. After I had a chance calm down and think about it, I knew that I'd over reacted and I'm sorry for that.”

He leaned back in his chair and studied her more closely. “I did rather wonder after you'd stormed off. I actually didn't think I'd said anything _that_ incendiary.”

Hermione shook her head, a slight blush rising to her cheeks. “You touched a nerve with the tone of surprise in your voice at the idea that I might actually have plans to go out with someone.” She hesitated and then, swallowing hard, forged ahead. “You see, when I broke things off with Ronald, he didn't take it well. All in all, he said a lot of rather ugly things, some of the mildest being he told me that I'd be hard pressed to find anyone else willing to put up with my bookish ways and that most blokes wanted a girl who would spend more time with them than in the library. He called me a cold fish and said I'd end up a lonely old maid, with nothing but my books and my cat for company.”

“That's ridiculous,” declared Severus. “Surely you didn't believe him?”

“No I didn't. Not at all. I realized he was hurt and he was lashing out at me, trying to hurt me in return,” replied Hermione. “So I didn't believe him, not then, at least. But honestly, for the past couple of years, it's been pretty slim pickings in the social department. I was beginning to wonder...” Hermione paused, then finished, “Anyway, your comment: 'You have plans?... Plans as in _dates_?' Just seemed a bit mocking and I guess it hit a nerve. I'm sorry I snapped at you.”

“It's fine, no harm done,” he replied. “I really meant nothing by it.”

“Thanks. Well, I guess I'd best be off then,” she said with a smile. 

“I do hope you enjoy yourself, and good luck with those plans.”

Hermione paused and then chuckled. “To be honest, I don't have a date this week. I'm just going out with Harry and Draco for drinks at some new club on Saturday night. I do, however, have high hopes for the following weekend. If things go well, I just might 'get lucky', or at least I hope so. 

“I'll most likely be staying at Harry's while I'm in town. Please feel free to owl me there or at Things office if you happen to remember anything pertinent to my investigation.” She slipped on her cloak and waved from the doorway. 

“Hermione,” he called, stopping her in her tracks. She turned and looked at him questioningly. “I just hope you realize—Weasley was and is a complete idiot.”

Her smile lit up the whole room. “Thanks, Severus. I'll see you on weekend after next, then.”

~*~

It wasn't until she'd been gone a couple hours that her final parting words struck him as odd. 'I'll see you on the weekend after next, then.' But hadn't she just said, not more than a minute or two before, that she had high hopes to _get lucky_ that weekend? Surely she hadn't meant... Well of course she hadn't... Had she?

~*~

The first day back in the office, Hermione spent her time getting caught up. Things reputation was beginning to spread by word of mouth, and new cases were slowly trickling in on a regular basis. Since Argus had only ever intended to be a part-time employee, and Arabella's role was manning the office, the case load was starting to be a bit much for just them to keep up with. Hermione had to give some consideration to hiring another field investigator or two. 

She had also come up with the idea from Clarissa's case, to target the tourist market by offering authentication of haunted sites. It seemed that some Muggles were keen on the idea of paranormal activity and were willing to spend their cash and their holidays traveling about exploring these places. In order to offer some sort of tangible proof, Hermione decided to invest in some high tech equipment like infra-red cameras, thermal detectors, and sensitive recording equipment. 

Needing someone familiar with these techie gadgets, she contacted Colin Creevey's younger brother, Dennis. He had followed in Colin's footsteps regarding his fascination with photography, and he was more than willing to free lance for Things. Luck seemed to be shining on her, because it turned out that Dennis' new wife, Ruth Anne, was a Squib who was currently seeking employment. Hermione set up an interview with her for the field investigator position. Hermione preferred hiring Squibs, because usually they were already acclimated to both the Muggle and magical worlds. Hence, she didn't have to hide her magic from them. It was a win-win situation. Her little work-family was growing.

~*~

Once she had everything under control at the office, Hermione got to spend some time learning about Augusta. She'd had Neville acquire Augusta's appointment book from her rooms in order to see what she had been up to in the final days before her death.

She'd been too busy setting up her business to actually look for a place of her own to live. She usually just stayed with Harry at Grimmauld Place, although she did occasionally Apparate to her parents' house. Tonight she was at Harry's. With a groan she plopped onto the sofa in the front sitting room after stuffing herself on Draco's cooking. Gods almighty, the man was like some kind of idiot savant in the kitchen. 

Since Neville and Severus had got their importing business up and running they weren't offering as many freebies for Draco to test, but even without the exotic ingredients his meals were still amazing. Hermione made a mental note to herself not to spend too much time here or Draco's cooking hobby would add unwanted inches to her hips. Since Draco had cooked, Hermione had volunteered to clean up and the boys had disappeared upstairs immediately after dinner. She didn't want to know what they were doing up there. 

Settling in to do some work, she pulled out Augusta's day planner. Apparently, she'd been the type of witch who kept careful track of everything. Hermione was able to view her background for the entire year right up to the week of her death. Looking it over, she determined that Augusta was a creature of habit. She had several standing appointments noted, including monthly meetings for the Hogwarts Board of Governors, the committee to oversee ethical standards and practices at St. Mungo's, and the Orphan's Fund Society, also a monthly book club meeting at Flourish and Blotts, a twice a month luncheon date with Minerva McGonagall and her regular every-other week visit to Neville. Hermione made note of the fact that in the last two months prior to her death, Minerva had canceled their nearly all of their luncheon dates. Augusta subsequently had made several unscheduled trips to the school for no apparent reason. Something she had never done before from what Hermione could tell. She had in fact been there two days before her death. That did seem odd.

After studying it for a while and making a few notes Hermione tapped her pen nervously on the notepad, considering. Finally she stepped to the Floo to call to Neville. Kneeling near the hearth, Hermione waited for him to answer. 

“Hey, Hermione. What's up?” asked Neville sleepily.

Looking at the clock, Hermione was surprised at how late it had become. “I'm sorry Neville, I didn't mean to wake you. I was just going over your gran's appointment book, and lost track of the time. By the looks of it, I'd have to say she was a very organized witch. Would you confirm that, Neville?”

“Oh, sure. I'd say that describes Gran pretty well. Very organized, a lot like you, in fact.”

“Probably the type of witch to keep a journal or a diary, huh?” asked Hermione.

“Oh yeah. I do remember her writing in a daily journal for years. Not a day went by that she didn't... Hey, wait a minute. Hermione, please don't ask me to do what I think it is you're going to ask me to do,” he begged. 

“Neville, I need to see those journals—for her last six months or so at the very least. The entire last couple of years even, if you can manage it.”

“Hermioneeee,” Neville whined. “It was hard enough sneaking out the appointment book. That was lying out in the open on her desk, but I have no idea where she kept her journals. I'll have to search her rooms. She'll kill me!” 

“No, she won't, Nev. You're her grandson and she loves you. You're the only one who can do it. Please, Neville, I wouldn't ask if this weren't important. I think I might be onto something.” 

There was silence for a full minute before he finally heaved a sigh and agreed. 

“Thanks so much, Neville. And I see that she had a yearly physical about two months before her death. I'd like you to request her medical records and check to see if they ran any kind of magical tests after her death. As her next of kin you shouldn't have any trouble getting that information.”

“Hermione?” Neville sounded worried. “It sounds like you think that Gran's death wasn't from natural causes.”

“I don't know anything for sure right now. I'm just checking out all the possibilities, love,” she replied, trying her damnedest to sound reassuring.

~*~

Neville arrived at the keep after classes on Friday. He'd owled Severus a note that he was coming out, but hadn't said why. He didn't know if Gran was bothering to check Severus' post, but he wouldn't put it past her. She was a wily witch, well a wily ghost now, of course. 

Once there, he'd coaxed Severus out to the stables on the premise that they might adapt them to house a few moose... mooses... whatever the hell they were called! In actuality, he just wanted to get him away from the house, because as far as they could tell, Gran stayed exclusively inside the keep. And he didn't want her to overhear what he had planned.

“Hermione says she needs to get a look at Gran's journals. I might need your help distracting her while I sneak them out. I'm not sure where to look, but I'm guessing the desk in her sitting room is a good place to start.”

“That seems logical,” agreed Severus. “If not there, you might try her bedside table.”

“Oh, good idea,” said Neville. He looked nervous at the thought of drawing Augusta's wrath.

“Do you want me to look for them, while you distract her?” offered Severus. “I was a spy. I do have more experience than you at sneaking around.”

For a brief instant Neville looked relieved, but then shook his head. “No, she has only harassed you so far. And while she hasn't done anything overtly violent, there's no telling what she might be capable of. No, Hermione was right, it has to be me. Gran might get angry if she catches me, but I know she loves me. She won't do me any harm.” 

Severus clapped him on the back. “You're a brave man, Neville Longbottom, and that's a fact.”

It all turned out to be much easier than they'd expected. They waited until the next afternoon. Augusta liked to bother Severus after lunch. He usually retired to his study for a few hours to work on the books for the business or sort through new orders. She knew it annoyed him when she distracted him from his work. 

Neville had excused himself after lunch, claiming he had some fourth year essays to mark. Severus had retired to his study and Augusta had shown up, just like clockwork. For the most part, he usually tried to ignore her. Today, in an effort to give Neville a bit more time, he'd spent a good half hour trading insults with her. 

Just as he was beginning to run out of jibes to toss at her, Neville appeared in the doorway. 

“Gran, why must you antagonize Severus so? He's my friend and my business partner and he lives here at my request. For you to treat him so is an insult.”

“Although you may trust him, Neville, I do not. When he has proven to me that he is trustworthy, then I shall treat him as a welcome guest,” replied Augusta with a huff. Giving Severus a dirty look, she disappeared, throwing all the windows open as she left

“Sorry, Severus,” apologized Neville, as he closed the windows with a wave of his wand. 

“No need to apologize, Neville. You did nothing to insult me.” Lowering his voice, he asked softly, “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Neville nodded and pulled several tiny books from his pocket and enlarged them. “Hermione wanted at least the last six months, but she said a couple years would be even better. This is nearly three years' worth. I really don't want to keep them on me, though, in case Gran realizes they're gone. I transfigured some other books to look like them and put them in their place, so unless she were to actually check them, I don't think she will notice them missing, but I'd rather get them out of the house just in case.”

“Sounds like a good idea. Why don't you take them to Granger right now?” suggested Severus. 

“I wondered if you would be willing to drop them off at Grimmauld Place. I think I should stay around to placate Gran, just in case she realizes they're gone. I know you probably don't relish the idea of going to Harry's house—” 

“It's alright. It seems, as of late, if I want to see Draco that is where I will find him.” Severus took the journals, shrinking them back down and sliding them into his pocket. 

“Wait. Will you give these to her, as well?” asked Neville, pulling out a manilla folder with the St. Mungo's seal stamped on it. “Hermione wanted to take a look at Gran's medical records too.” 

Severus eyebrow crooked up and he gave Neville a questioning look as he took the folder and shrunk it too. “Did she say why she wanted all this information?”

“She said that she's just checking out all the possibilities, but she also said earlier in the conversation that she might be on to something. I can't help but feel a bit concerned about all of this. If Gran's death wasn't from natural causes, having Hermione poking around could stir up trouble. It might even put her in danger,” confided Neville.

“Hmmm...” humphed Severus. “That girl's middle name ought to be trouble. I'll see if I can find out what she's up to.”

~*~

Draco opened the door and greeted Severus warmly, while expressing surprise at his presence. Just at that moment Harry came down the stairs. He seemed pleased to see Severus as well. 

Everyone assumed that Severus hated Potter when that wasn't the case at all. He didn't hate him, but he wasn't exactly fond of him either. Let's face it; they really didn't know each other personally. But with Draco being all wrapped up in everything Potter these days, it looked as if he were going to be forced to become better acquainted, if he hoped to maintain any sort of relationship with his godson. 

“What brings you here, Severus?” asked Draco, drawing him into the front sitting room. “We were planning to go out in a bit, but we've time for tea, or a drink before we go. Don't we Harry?”

“Of course. Would you like an Ogdens? Or we've an excellent elf-made wine. Draco appropriated a whole case from Lucius' wine cellars last time he was there,” offered Harry with a grin.

“I suppose I have time for a glass of wine. Lucius always did collect the best vintages,” responded Severus smoothly.

Severus suddenly realized that it was Saturday. Going out to some new club with Harry and Draco tonight were the plans Hermione had mentioned. He figured she was probably still getting ready and would be down shortly. When he was halfway through his second glass of wine and she hadn't shown up, he decided he would have to take a more direct approach.

“In answer to your earlier question, Draco—what brings me here? I wanted to speak with Hermione. Is she home?”

Draco and Harry both looked shocked. “Granger?” asked Draco.

“Yes, of course Granger. Unless you know of another a Hermione who is in the habit of staying here at Grimmauld Place,” sniped Severus.

“Uhh... Sorry, I was just surprised. I've never heard you use her first name before,” said Draco, his eyes shifting nervously to Potter. “Or show any interest in her at all for that matter.”

“I've never called Potter here, Harry, either. But I suppose if my godson insists on hanging about with a bunch of Gryffindors, I shall have to get used to the idea, won't I? At any rate, she has been doing some research for Neville and he asked me to drop off some information she needs. Is she not here?”

“She's staying here, yes,” replied Harry, speaking to Severus, but glancing at Draco with a slight smirk. “But she's not here at the moment.”

“Although, she's supposed to be,” complained Draco. “She's stood us up. Again. She was supposed to go out with us tonight, but she sent an owl just before you arrived. She's working late again, the silly bint.”

“Again?” asked Severus.

“We think she works much too hard,” explained Harry. “We've been trying to get her to let loose and have some fun. She's been under a lot of stress for the last couple of years. Hell, since the end of the war, really.”

“Stress? What sort of stress? She seemed fine when I talked to her.” Then Severus added thoughtfully, “Except, she did mention that rather nasty break up with Weasley. It was clear from her comments that her self-image was affected by the things he said to her... about her. And now that you mention it she does seem to fly off the handle very easily when provoked. That could definitely be a sign of stress.” 

Severus observed Harry from behind lowered eyes. Harry looked a bit disconcerted to hear him speak about Hermione so intimately. He was obviously surprised to hear that she had confided such personal details to Severus. 'Gryffindors!' Severus snorted internally. They were so easy to manipulate. Just drop a few details and they were willing to spill their guts, or their best friend's guts in this case. He hadn't come here with the intent to delve into Hermione's personal history, but since the opportunity had presented itself so nicely, who was he to refuse?

“Well yes, quite a lot of stress. What with going off on her own to retrieve her parents and restore their memories. And then she had a bugger of a time finding them, because they'd moved away from where she thought they'd be. Took her the better part of two years just to locate them and nearly another to get their memories all sorted. It was a very rough time for her. Then after reconciling with them and returning home, she thought she could finally get on with her life, only be screwed over by the Ministry.”

“Yes, bloody bastards,” agreed Draco. “Denying her the right to take her N.E.W.T.s. Unless she were content to be a shop clerk or a waitress or something, what sort of career could she pursue in the wizarding world without her N.E.W.T.s? And McGonagall refusing to help her, as well—what was that all about? I thought Granger was one of her pets.”

Over the next ten minutes the two continued to regale Severus with details about Hermione with nary a word of encouragement from him, aside from the occasional nod or grunt. By the time they were done, he knew practically everything there was to know about Granger. Including a few things that she really wouldn't have wanted him to know. He might have expected this from Potter, but when had Draco lost his Slytherin edge? He'd turned into an even bigger gossip than Flitwick and Hooch on their worst days.

After listening to the Dubious Duo babble on for another few minutes, Severus interrupted. “Where exactly can I find Hermione then? I understand that she's at her office now, but I am not aware of the exact location.”

“Oh, sorry, Severus,” apologized Harry while quickly explaining where her office was located in Muggle London. “She has a Floo in her office that she uses to go to and from work. I'd offer to let you use it, but she was livid the one time I did and popped out of her fireplace into the middle of a meeting with a client. She deals mostly with Muggles, you know. Anyway, when she had to Obliviate her client, I thought she was going to hex me to Hades and back. So I wouldn't advise just popping in without any warning.”

“But surely she wouldn't be with a client this late in the day, would she?”

“Isn't that what I said in the beginning?” asked Draco. “She sent an owl with a note that she couldn't go out with us tonight because she had to meet with this client. She said it was something of an emergency.”

“An emergency?” echoed Severus. “I thought she was passing herself off as some kind of ghost buster. How on earth could that entail any kind of emergency?”

Harry half choked, something between a snort and a laugh. “Ghost busters! For Merlin's sake don't ever say anything like that to Hermione. I did once, half jokingly, and she nearly took my head off.”

“Too late,” responded Severus glumly.

“And yet you're still alive, and seemingly unharmed. Count yourself lucky. She must like you,” replied Harry with a grin. “At any rate, Hermione takes her business very seriously and doesn't appreciate it being the butt of jokes.” 

“In all honesty, Granger does offer a good deal of help to the people who hire her,” said Draco. “It seems, that unlike the wizarding world where we take ghosts and such for granted, much of the Muggle world tends to deny their very existence. So by the time people come to her for help, they think themselves mad for even considering the idea of ghosts.”

Severus nodded slowly in reply to Draco's words. “I hadn't actually thought of it like that, but I can see your point.”

“If you'd like, you can leave whatever you have from Neville here and we'll make sure she gets it,” offered Harry. 

“No, thank you. I actually have something I need to discuss with Hermione as well. I'll just Apparate nearby and come in the front door, rather than pop through the Floo. Oh, and thank you for the wine, boys. I'll be sure to give Lucius my approval on that particular vintage,” he said with a sly smile as both their faces paled at the comment. No doubt Lucius would be taking a closer inventory of his wine cellars from this point onward. 

~*~

Following Harry's directions, Severus Disapparated from Grimmauld Place and arrived in an out of the way spot. He then walked the few blocks to where Granger's office was located on a nondescript street. It was an older, just slightly run down neighborhood. It didn't seem to be a particularly dangerous area. Still, he wasn't entirely sure that he liked the idea of her being here alone at night. Curiously, her office appeared to be just a doorway sandwiched between a vintage clothing boutique on one side and some new-agey shop selling crystals, tarot cards, talismans and the like, on the other side. He took note; in the same block there was a tiny used-book shop, a tea shop, and a deli on the corner. Across the street there was a pub, a florist, an antique shop, a yarn shop, and a tattoo parlor. His nose told him that somewhere in the immediate vicinity there was definitely an Indian restaurant as well. 

The sign on her door merely read H. J. Granger and Associates. Upon opening the door, he found a set of stairs and realized that her offices were upstairs above one of the other shops. At the top of the stairs there was indeed another door opening into a hallway with a sign bearing an arrow pointing to the left. 

 

Things That Go Bump in the Night  
Paranormal Investigations  
H. J. Granger  
and  
Associates

About halfway down the hall he saw a door with a frosted glass window, again with the business' name and this time the hours were written on it. The office closed at five and it was now quarter past seven, so Hermione was clearly keeping hours far outside the norm, besides the very fact that they weren't even open on Saturday. With a wave of his wand he was able to see through the frosted glass to observe that the outer office was empty with only a dim light on inside. However, there were a couple of other doors leading off from there and one was slightly ajar with a light shining through. She must be in there. 

Severus silently let himself in and as he approached the inner door he could hear voices. There was a brass name plate on the door that read H. J. Granger. He Disillusioned himself and stood off to the side of doorway to eavesdrop on the conversation within. Hermione was with a woman named Nancy, who had apparently just related the details of her problem. 

“So you see, Miss Granger, I'm at my wit's end. I don't know what to do. My fiancé and I just bought this beautiful little house, but whenever I'm there, this woman keeps appearing. He never sees her, though. I'm the only one who has. I'm afraid he's beginning to think I've got a screw loose or something.”

“Hmm... Does the woman ever react to your presence or do anything differently? Or does it seem like she is just doing the same thing over and over each time you see her?”

“The second case. She never acts like she sees me there. She just walks from the hallway into the small bedroom. I think it might have been a nursery at one time. She sits in a rocking chair by the window and stares outside; it seems like she might be crying. There's no noise, mind you. It just looks to me like there are tears on her face.” The woman's voice choked up a bit at recalling the scene.

“If it's what I think, Nancy, you have nothing to worry about,” said Hermione. “Just wait a second while I print out some reference material for you, and I'll explain what I think is going on.” 

Peeking through the crack in the doorway, Severus could see Hermione typing some things at her computer. With a final keystroke, she turned back to her client just as the printer whirred to life in the outer office. Severus nearly jumped out of his skin, not expecting the noise. Luckily he didn't bump up against anything or make any sound to give himself away.

He leaned close as Hermione began speaking again. “This sounds like a classic residual haunting to me, Nancy. This is a bit of a misnomer, in my opinion, because there really is no actual spirit. It's more like a kind of instant replay of some event. The theory goes that sometimes the emotion generated by significant events create this sort of psychic loop, which replays its action over and over. It could be something violent, or terrifying, or in this case, I think, tragic. Here is my theory. This woman at one time lived in your home. If that bedroom was, as you believe, a nursery, it sounds as if her baby died. She comes into the room and sits in the chair where she used to rock her child to sleep, as she stares out the window and cries out her grief. She means you no harm. In fact she doesn't even know you are there,” Hermione reassured her.

“But why can't Mike see her? I know he's starting to think I'm some kind of nutter.”

Hermione chuckled. “Well, another theory is that some people are just more sensitive to this sort of thing. So, I'm not saying that Mike is an insensitive lout, but it may just be that you, as a woman, are more in tune with the feelings and emotions embedded in the place. It's possible that once you get used to the idea of her being there, with time, the image will fade and you won't even notice her anymore. Like I said, I've printed out some references and some links you can check out for more information. After you've done a bit of research, if you still feel uncomfortable in the home, I can have one of my investigators come by and check it out for you.”

“Oh, Miss Granger, just talking to you about this has helped put my mind at ease. Thank you so much for seeing me on such short notice. I know I must have sounded frantic when we spoke on the phone earlier.”

“It's fine Nancy. Don't worry about it. No one should be afraid to stay in their own home. I'm happy to help,” said Hermione.

“How much do I owe you for today, Miss Granger?” asked Nancy, reaching for her handbag.

“Don't worry about it. I really didn't do anything but give you some information that you could have got for yourself at any public library or on the internet.”

“That may be true, but I wouldn't have thought to look for it, and I've taken up most of your evening and on a Saturday, too. You must let me pay you for your time, I insist.”

“Very well, then,” said Hermione and named a nominal amount. 

Nancy looked at her a bit doubtfully and shook her head. “I know that's not right miss. While I don't know the full amount, I heard that Mr. Oglethorpe paid you a lot more for helping him out with his problem. While I couldn't possibly pay that much, I want to do what's fair.”

Hermione laughed out loud. “That was Tim's own fault. I had a set fee for the work I did for your boss, but he got me to agree to a bet. Needless to say, I won. Okay, Nancy, I'll be honest with you. Yes, this is a lot less than my usual fee, but I was telling the truth. You could have got this information just as easily yourself. So let's agree to this. You just pay me the amount I asked for now, and if you really need us to check out your house in order to feel okay there, I'll charge you more then. Is that a deal?”

Nancy agreed and wrote her out a check. As she was putting on her jacket, Hermione walked into the outer office to get the papers from the printer for her. Severus flattened himself against the wall, staying as quiet as could be. He did have one of the strongest Disillusionment charms he'd ever seen, having perfected it during the war. Still, when Hermione turned and looked around the room, he had a brief moment of doubt, but when she walked back into her office without a word he figured that he was safe. 

Hermione asked Nancy if she needed her to call a taxi. She confirmed that she was okay, saying she'd just used her mobile to call a friend who was waiting in her car outside the front door. “All right then, if you're sure you're okay. I would walk you down, but I have a few things to finish up here. I'll just lock this door up, once you go, 'til I'm ready to leave.”

Severus was happy to hear that she at least took common precautions when alone in the building at night. She stalked back into her office. Just as he was about to reveal himself, she grabbed the edge of her door and flung it wide open and threw herself against it, slamming it into him, and him into the wall behind.

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ” she cried, as his wand flew out of his hand. Before he could even react, she followed it immediately with, “ _Finite Incantatum!_ ” His Disillusionment charm melted away like a snowball in hell. 

“Christ on a fucking bike, Hermione! I think you ruptured something!” he roared, clutching his lower gut where the doorknob had embedded itself. 

“Snape... Severus... Snape! Bloody Hell! What are you doing sneaking around hiding in here? You scared the living crap out of me! I could have killed you, you wanker!” She fell back against the desk and slid to the floor as if all of her bones had just dissolved like the ones in Harry's arm during their second year. She buried her face in her hands and took several deep shuddering breaths. 

Finally composing herself, Hermione rose on shaky legs to come over to him. He stood there, favoring the toes on the foot the door had hit. He was still propped against the wall, half doubled up, clutching his stomach. She handed him back his wand and calmly cast a quick Diagnostic Spell and a Healing Charm. “I don't think there's any major damage. Come with me I've got something for the pain.” Grabbing his hand, she pulled him into her office and shoved him down into the chair Nancy had sat in a few minutes earlier.

Going around behind her desk, she threw herself into her own chair and opened the bottom drawer, pulling out the ugliest, rattiest, old silk beaded bag he'd ever seen. She proceeded to open the drawstring top and shove her whole arm in nearly to her shoulder as she rummaged around before finally muttering, “Oh, good. There it is.” She pulled out a battered first aid kit and set it on her desk. She opened the lid and sorted through several potion vials. 

“Hmmm... Damn, some these are a little past their expiration date. I need to restock.” Checking the label of one she slid it across the desk to him. “Here's a pain potion. It actually expired last month. You're the Potion master; you be the judge. It's all I've got handy, though.”

Picking it up he held it to the light, agitating the bottle a bit. He double checked the label, then opened it and sniffed. Placing his finger over the top he tipped it up to get a dab on his finger. Then he rubbed his finger and thumb together, feeling the consistency before he tasted the tip of his finger. Pressing his other hand to his sore abdomen, he finally muttered a quick, 'oh, what the hell' and he downed the contents in one gulp. The effect was nearly instantaneous and he slumped back into the chair with a sigh. “Thank you,” he mumbled gruffly.

“You're welcome. And I'm sorry,” she said in the same breath. “But honestly, Severus, what were you thinking—skulking about, hiding out there?”

“Well, at least I'll no longer worry about you being here alone at night. My first thought when Potter and Draco told me you where you were was that it might not be entirely safe. You certainly proved me wrong there.”

Hermione covered her face with her hands again, a little half sob escaping.

“Hermione?” Severus reached across the desk and, gently grasping her wrist, he pulled her hand away. She was shaking.

“I really was terrified,” she whispered. “When I thought someone was in here and Disillusioned, all I could think was to get Nancy out of here as quickly as possible. I knew it had to be a wizard or a witch, and for all I knew it might have been some rogue Death Eater or a Voldemort sympathizer with a grudge or something. Dear Lord, Severus... I really could have hurt you much worse, or even killed you by accident.” 

“And yet, once you'd got your Muggle client safely away out of the building, what did you do, you silly girl?” he scolded her. “Did you Apparate yourself away to safety? Did you send a Patronus to Potter to come and help you? Call the Aurors? No! You charge right back into the thick of things. Typical Gryffindor that you are. What if I _had_ been here to do you harm? And you aren't upset about any of that. You're upset that you might have hurt me. Grrrr...” He threw his hands up in frustration.

“Did you just growl at me?” she asked. “Well it could have ended up much worse, you berk! Just think how bad I'd feel then. I watched you die once, or so I thought. I really have no desire to repeat the experience!” she cried. She reached into the bottom drawer again and pulled out a bottle of Ogden's Best and a couple of shot glasses. “Here, I need a nip to steady my nerves after all that,” she said pouring them each a drink. “Now, are you going to tell me what in hell you were doing out there? Or are you going to try to deflect the blame back on me?”

“No, I am sorry,” he said with a sigh, accepting the whiskey. “I had intended to show myself as soon as your client left. Draco and Harry gave me directions to your office. I thought you would be alone by the time I got here. When I arrived and found you with her, I decided to wait out here until she left. I should have revealed myself sooner. No one has ever detected my Disillusionment Charm before. I didn't even consider that you might jump to other conclusions. I am sorry for frightening you. That was never my intention.”

“So what did you need to see me for? Oh, did you remember something important?” she asked, suddenly very interested.

“No. I've brought you something from Neville,” he explained, as he withdrew the diaries, enlarged them, and laid them on the table. 

“Augusta's journals,” she whispered, fingering one as if it were the Holy Grail. “You found them.”

Severus nodded. “Neville did; he braved her wrath. I distracted her while he obtained them. He thought you would want them as soon as possible, so he asked me to bring them to you. He didn't want to leave the keep in case she discovered them missing and became angry. He figured he could handle her better than I, in that case.”

He pulled another shrunken packet from his pocket and tossed it down on the desk as well. “He also wanted you to have these.”

Turning the file over, she saw the St. Mungo's seal. “Her medical records. Good. These should be very helpful.”

Severus hesitated for an instant, and then forged ahead. “I assume you suspect foul play in regards to her death?”

Hermione turned her gaze to Severus and hesitated as well. “I... I really can't divulge that information, Severus. I'm sorry, but it's confidential.”

He stared back at her, crossing his arms over his chest, and asked point blank, “Am I a suspect?”

“What?” she gasped. “No! Of course not. Why would you even ask me that?”

He relaxed visibly at her vehement reply. “You expect me to believe that you have never suspected me? Not even for a minute?”

She glared at him. “No, not even for a second. I trust you, Severus, implicitly. I always have.”

He snorted, and replied bitterly, “Always? You're a minority of one, then. Augusta herself obviously suspects me of something. Minerva, who I always thought of as a friend, would not even attempt to help me regain my position at Hogwarts. Hell, even the common people would not trust me enough to buy their Pepper Up potion from me.”

“Yes, always, Severus. And they are wrong. All of them. All wrong.” Hermione paused, her hands clasped so tightly in front of her the knuckles were turning white. “Even after... that night... on the tower. I didn't know what to think. Harry hated you more than anything after that. I think he hated you even more than Voldemort, but even then I knew something wasn't right. I didn't know what it was, but I knew it couldn't be what they said. And it wasn't, was it? 

“So do I trust you, Severus Snape? Yes, I do. And I am absolutely sure that you had nothing to do with Augusta's death. However, that doesn't really matter. Although you are Neville's business partner, this is a private investigation, and I can not break confidentiality. It simply wouldn't be right.”

Severus leaned forward and asked, “What if Neville gave his consent? If I ask him and he gives the okay for me help you with this investigation, would you agree then?”

Hermione sank back in her chair and appeared befuddled. “I... I suppose. Of course, if Neville agreed to it, then I certainly wouldn't have any objections. Having your input could be quite helpful especially in interpreting her medical records, but... Why? Why do you want to help?”

Severus, too, sat back in his chair. “Because, believe it or not, Neville is more than a business partner. He has become a friend, something in rather short supply for me these days. If Augusta's death was foul play, then he may be in danger, too. We need to get to the bottom of this.”

“Let's Floo call him right now,” suggested Hermione eagerly.

“We'll have to be careful in how we word it, in case Augusta is listening in,” warned Severus. “Until we figure out what's going on we'll never convince her to trust me.”

Nodding in agreement, Hermione knelt at the hearth and threw in a pinch of Floo Powder. She called Neville's name as Severus came to kneel at her side. They both spoke to him, couching their questions in generalities, yet Neville caught on immediately and granted his approval.

As she closed the Floo connection, she sat back on her heels. Her stomach let out a growl so loud Severus actually looked around the room to see where the noise was coming from. “Was that you?” he asked in disbelief as she blushed red as a rose. “When was the last time you ate anything, woman?”

“Ummm... I had a late breakfast. And I had tea and a couple biscuits around mid afternoon,” she confessed. 

“Come,” he said, drawing her up from the floor. “I'll take you to dinner to celebrate our newly formed partnership.”

“Now, hold on just a minute, Severus. You are not a partner here, more like a technical consultant,” she insisted. 

“Whatever you want to call it, Hermione. Do you like Italian? I know a wonderful little Italian place. I haven't been there in a couple years. Let's go eat and you can bring me up to speed on your theories thus far. Oh, and this place serves the best chicken cacciatore you've ever tasted.”

Her stomach growled even louder in response as he whisked her away.

 

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

For not having been to the restaurant in two years, Severus was greeted quite warmly by the host, a middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair and a big smile. “Severus, it's been so long!” he cried, grasping his hand and shaking it firmly. “Wait right there. I must call Mama. She'll never forgive me if I don't.” Picking up the phone, he quickly punched in an extension and said, “Mama, Severus is here. Come out and say hello.”

Within seconds an older silver-haired Italian lady came bustling down the hallway. “Severino! You are so bad! You stay away much too long. We were beginning to think that you don't like us no more,” she scolded, at the same time pulling him down to hug him and kiss his cheeks. He looked slightly embarrassed, yet pleased, as he awkwardly accepted her affection. 

“I'm sorry, Zia Sofia. I don't get in to London often anymore. I do apologize. I know this is your busiest night and this is short notice, but I didn't make reservations. I was hoping you might be able to find us a table. ”

“Pffft! But of course we will find a table for our Severino and his fidanzata,” said the old lady with a wave of her hand. “Tonio, go find a spot and set it up. A nice quiet spot for these two lovebirds.”

Turning to Hermione, she drew her close and said conspiratorially, “Our Severino, he has never brought his fidanzata—his girlfriend—here before.”

“Oh, but I'm not...” started Hermione before she was interrupted by Severus.

“Sofia, behave yourself,” warned Severus sternly. “Let me introduce Hermione Granger, she is a friend, and I don't want you to frighten her away with your teasing. Hermione, this is Sofia Larosa. Her son, Tony, who is getting our table ready, is a childhood friend of mine. We grew up in the same neighborhood; they moved here to London a couple years before I went off to boarding school.”

“Ah, Ermione, such a pretty name for a pretty girl. I'm so happy to meet our Severino's amore,” declared Sofia with a grin, totally ignoring Severus' plea to behave herself. “Too skinny you are, though, Ermione. Severino, don't you ever feed this girl? You both need some meat on your bones. You should come here for dinner more often so I could fatten you up a little.” Before Severus could even protest she rambled on, “Ah good, Tonio has your table ready. Come. Come, let's get you seated.”

~*~

It was the best chicken cacciatore she'd ever eaten. Of course, that was safe to say, since she'd never actually had chicken cacciatore before. Still, she did admit that it was quite good. The service was excellent, and they were given a bottle of the best wine on the menu, compliments of the Larosas'. Before the discussion turned to Augusta, Hermione insisted on hearing about Severus' childhood friendship with Tony.

“They're Muggles, correct?” asked Hermione.

“Yes, I did grow up in a Muggle neighborhood, you know,” he replied. “Tony and I were both social outcasts as far as the rest of the neighborhood boys were concerned. We were both different, he because his family was foreign, me because of my magic. Tony never knew about that, though. He just knew that the other boys ostracized me, too, so we sort of gravitated toward each other. Plus, his mother was extremely kind to me. She let me call her Aunt Sofia. She fed me Italian pastries and pasta and let me stay there sometimes when my da came home drunk and took it out on Mum and me.”

Hermione reached across the table and laid her hand on his. “Severus, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry.”

He shook his head, taking a sip of wine. “It's all right. They were one of the few good things in my childhood, the Larosas and Lily. The mill work slowed down, and many were laid off, Tony's dad included. They had a cousin here in London who wanted to start a restaurant and he offered them the chance to join him. They moved here when we were about nine, I think. They made a go of it, not here in this location. It was a much smaller place they started out in, but they became successful and eventually expanded here. We've kept in touch throughout the years, mainly through letters, but occasionally I stop in for a meal or just to visit.”

“Was Tony friends with Lily Evans, too?”

“No, Lily came into my life the same summer that Tony's family moved away. She knew of him, because I spoke of him often, but she'd never met him.”

They continued to chat throughout dinner. The odd thing was they never seemed to run out of things to talk about. One thing led to another, from comparing their first impressions of Hogwarts from both a Muggleborn's and from a half blood's point of view, to the failure of Severus' Apothecary, to Hermione's search for and reconciliation with her parents after the war. By the time they got through dessert they realized that the restaurant was nearly empty and they hadn't even got around to talking about Hermione's theories regarding Augusta. 

“Would you like to stop by Grimmauld for a bit and I can at least go over the date book and see what you think?” offered Hermione. “I'm sure Harry won't mind. He and Draco are out for the evening anyway.”

“I suppose we could,” agreed Severus. “It's not all that late and I tend to be a creature of the night anyway... No vampire, comments, please!”

Hermione giggled. “No, none at all. I just find it amusing because I'm a night person, too. People assumed that because I was often up and in the library doing research at seven a.m. that I was little Mary Sunshine, up at the bum crack of dawn with a smile on my face and a song in my heart. That wasn't the case at all. I was just disciplined and I forced myself to get up early, but I hated every blasted second of it.”

“Then by all means,” said Severus. “The night is still young. I will accompany you back to Potter's home. Just let me go argue with Tony over the bill. They always try to give me free food, but I insist on paying.”

“While you take care of that, I'm just going to ladies' room for a bit. Shall I meet you out front?”

Severus agreed and went in search of one of the Larosas to settle the check. 

~*~

Upon exiting the lavatory, just as Hermione reached to open the door, she was nearly bowled over by a tall, statuesque blonde. “Watch it!” the blonde snarled after bumping into Hermione's shoulder so hard she nearly thumped against the wall. 

_'How rude,'_ thought Hermione, but she ignored the woman and proceeded down the hall to meet Severus. He wasn't waiting at the front of the restaurant, but there was another man standing there.

“Timothy?” said Hermione in disbelief. Timothy Oglethorpe turned toward her as she spoke, looking equally surprised.

“Hermione. My goodness. What a surprise, love,” he said, giving her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Tim, how nice to see you. What on earth are you doing here?”

“Late dinner. And you?”

“The same. I had dinner with a friend,” she replied. “Did you get my note saying I'd contact you this week about next weekend at Clarissa's inn? I won't need to call you; I can just let you know right now.”

Tim's face clouded as he replied, “Yes.... Well... About next weekend, I'm afraid I'm going to have to bow out. Something's come up, you see—”

Before he could explain the blonde woman from moments earlier approached and possessively wrapped her arm around Tim's. “Sorry to keep you waiting, darling. And who is this? A client of yours, perhaps?”

Hermione stepped back, shocked by the woman clinging to Tim's arm with a clear sense of ownership. 

“No actually, it's quite the opposite. I am a client of Hermione's,” replied Tim as he attempted to extricate himself. The woman was like the giant squid, tentacles everywhere. “Hermione, this is Anne—”

“Anne Oglethorpe,” she finished for him, giving Hermione a sly smile and holding out her hand. “So very pleased to meet you.”

“Oglethorpe?” asked Hermione weakly, taking the hand offered in a limp grip and hoping with all her might that she was Tim's sister.

“Yes, I'm Tim's wife,” Anne stated smugly.

~*~

Severus stood in the shadows observing. He had returned from settling the check with Tony to find Hermione talking to some stranger in the entryway. It soon became apparent that they weren't strangers at all. Severus' blood began to boil when he heard Hermione mention plans for the weekend at Clarissa's inn.

Severus was furious and felt like a complete fool. He'd been an idiot to think that she'd meant him when she'd talked about high hopes for the weekend. Before he could do something stupid, though, he forced himself to take several deep breaths and calm himself down. He'd made too many mistakes in his life by acting rashly, so he knew enough not to do something in the heat of the moment that he might regret later. After all, it certainly wasn't Hermione's fault that he had misunderstood. She hadn't misled him purposely. The mistake had been his. It wouldn't do to take out his anger and hurt feelings on her when she clearly wouldn't even know what was going on.

As his attention returned to the scene at hand, he saw a tall blonde approach and wrap her self around the man in a clear show of possession. Oh, this looked bad.

“Hermione, this is Anne—” The man reluctantly introduced the woman to Hermione.

“Anne Oglethorpe,” she finished, looking like the cat that ate the canary. “So very pleased to meet you.”

“Oglethorpe?” asked Hermione. 

“Yes, I'm Tim's wife,” Anne stated smugly.

The shock on Hermione's face was obvious. She'd had no idea. She'd been blindsided. It was clear the bloody bastard had led her on.

“Ex-wife,” the man declared firmly. He emphasized that fact directly to Hermione, as he tried to extricate himself from the woman's clutches. “My ex-wife. We've been divorced for over two-years now.”

Okay, maybe he hadn't intentionally led her on, but Hermione clearly was not happy with the situation.

“And what is it you do exactly, Harmony?” asked the woman, trying to change the subject. 

“ _Hermione_ is the person who helped me to decipher all the strange happenings at Gran's cottage,” explained the man. 

“Oh, the _psychic_ ,” she sneered derisively, her nose wrinkled in distaste. 

“The what?” said Hermione. 

“Psychic... medium... whatever it is you sort call yourselves these days,” the harpy said snidely. “More like a charlatan, I'd say.”

Severus waited for the blast, fully expecting Hermione to dive in and eviscerate the bitch.

“Anne, that was totally uncalled for,” the man chided. 

Hermione merely stood by, looking like she wanted to melt into the floor. What on earth was wrong with her? The Hermione Granger he knew would be putting the usurper in her place and ripping her a new arsehole right about now. By her statement earlier, she obviously had some sort of prior relationship with this man, even if only casual, why wasn't she defending herself?

Suddenly Severus recalled some other things Hermione had told him, of the ugly things Weasley had said to her. He didn't need Legilimency to figure out what she was thinking now, thanks to this Oglethorpe bloke and his snotty ex-wife. Hermione's self esteem was in the toilet right about now, probably thinking that this Tim person had merely been using her all along. Whether he had or not, Severus wasn't about to let this stand.

His mind quickly reviewed everything he'd heard so far as he stepped forward. “Hermione, darling, I'm so sorry,” he said, wrapping an arm possessively around her waist and pulling her close to drop a kiss on her lips. He gave her a wink, unseen by the other two, before he continued. “Tony and I got caught up talking about the old days and lost all track of time. I _am_ sorry to have kept you waiting. So rude of me. I've been very bad, I know. Please, feel free to punish me later. I shall be looking forward to it immensely.” The last words were low and suggestive, but loud enough for the others to hear. Anne's mouth fell open and she dropped Tim's arm as if he were yesterday's rubbish. 

Turning to the other couple, Severus asked, “Who's this then, love? Someone you know?”

“Yes, Severus, this is Timothy Oglethorpe, one of my very first clients. Tim, this is an old friend and colleague of mine, Severus Snape.” The men shook hands, sizing each other up.

“And this is Tim's wife, Anne.”

“Ex! My ex-wife!” Tim practically shouted.

Anne sidled up to Severus, taking his hand in both of hers. “I'm so happy to meet you, Severus,” she purred as one hand slid up to caress his forearm. She was clearly enamored of him. In a low suggestive voice, she added, “I'd like very much to get to know you better.”

Severus extracted himself from her grip with a slight sneer of distaste on his face, as if he'd touched something slimy. “Indeed, madam. I cannot say the same.”

Severus' put down seemed to have no effect other than to convince the woman that he was playing hard to get. Undeterred, she leaned close enough that her breast rubbed firmly against his upper arm as she said in a sultry tone, “Oh, you will.”

“I think not,” said Severus coldly. In clear dismissal, he turned to Hermione. “My dear, I am sorry to break up your little tête-à-tête, but we should be going. We do, after all, have important _business_ to discuss.” The way he said the word business implied that he meant something else entirely, something much more intimate. “And we have to finalize our arrangements for next weekend. You'll need to contact your friend to let him know that you've made other plans now.” Severus turned toward Tim as though he'd had a sudden realization. “Oh... Oglethorpe. He's the one. So you've already let him know that you won't be meeting him next weekend?”

“Actually, darling, it seems that something's come up.” She eyed Anne pointedly. “And Timothy was going to cancel anyway, so no harm done at all,” Hermione responded with a smile. She finally seemed to have caught on and cozied up to Severus, leaning into him. Her head rested against him as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close to his side. “You're right, Severus. It is time to go. Nice running into to you Timothy, good night,” said Hermione bluntly, ignoring Anne completely. 

As they went through the door, Severus heard Anne declare petulantly, “Well, how very rude.”

“Shut the hell up, Anne!” snapped Oglethorpe.

Severus smirked.

~*~

Severus and Hermione walked away from Larosas' arm in arm. After turning the corner, they walked on in silence until about halfway down the block where there was an alley between the buildings, the perfect spot to Disapparate. Hermione jerked him into the alley and pushed him up against the wall. “Severus how could you—”

Oh, no. Here it came, like a dagger to his chest. She was angry, and probably upset that he had ruined things between her and Oglethorpe. 'How could you do such a thing?' she was about to say to him. Then he actually heard her words.

“Severus, how could you have possibly known what was happening back there? You were perfect. You were wonderful. You were my hero, my knight in shining armor. You were absolutely fucking brilliant!” She was so excited she was practically floating on air. She reached up and, grasping his lapels firmly, she pulled him down so she could kiss him soundly. 

Severus was shocked, and at first didn't react. He hesitated a heartbeat too long, and Hermione pulled away. “Oh, I'm so sorry. I probably shouldn't have done that.” She turned away in embarrassment. 

He grabbed her arm before she could escape and spun her back. Still leaning against the wall, he pulled her in close to him, and wrapped his arms tightly around her. “Oh, I'm quite sure you should have,” he said gruffly, lowering his head to claim her lips with his. After a moment he pulled back to explain. “You caught me by surprise, even though I've been thinking of doing exactly that for the past week. I thought you were about to scold me for interfering in your life; I wasn't expecting you to kiss me senseless.” Not waiting for her response, he kissed her again. 

They spent the next several minutes kissing and touching, hands sliding over clothing seeking entrance, fingers tangling in hair, lips and tongues dueling, each kiss leading to another and another and then one more. Finally Severus pulled away, saying, “Hermione, we must stop. Now.”

Her head dropped to his chest with a groan. Her hands were moving unconsciously, one gliding up and down his side while the other one slid around to cup his bum and squeeze. “Why?” she whispered plaintively.

“Because I refuse to shag you here in this alley,” he explained. “And, if we don't stop now, I will surely end up doing something completely insane.”

She looked up at him hopefully and smiled wantonly. “But you do intend to shag me eventually, yes?”

“Oh fuck, yes!” he growled, lowering his head for another kiss. 

After several more minutes she pulled him away from the wall. “Let's go home,” she said. Taking his hand, she Disapparated them both.

They landed in front of twelve Grimmauld Place. Severus looked up and groaned, “Potter's place?”

“I'm sorry,” she said sadly. “This is where I've been staying. Either here or at my parents' home and we can't go there. I've been too busy to find a place of my own. How about you? Could we go to your place?”

He frowned. “That is currently my suite of rooms at Toadstool Keep, so unless you want to risk having Augusta popping in unannounced, that's totally out of the question.”

“Arrgggh! I feel like we're a couple of teenagers. This is awful,” said Hermione. Then she looked up with a grin. “Wait. Harry and Draco are out at that new club. It's still fairly early. We'll have the place all to ourselves for hours yet. I'm sure they won't be home 'til late—”

She had no sooner said the words than the front door was opened by Draco, who looked surprised to see them. “Why are you two just standing around out here? Come on in and join the party.”

“Party? What party?” Hermione asked weakly. “I thought you and Harry went out tonight.”

“Oh, we did, but the club was boring. We ran into a few old friends, though, so Harry invited them back here.”

Hermione groaned. 

“Something wrong, Hermione?” asked Draco, looking confused.

She glanced nervously at Severus as her shoulders slumped in defeat. “No, Draco, there's nothing wrong. It's just that Severus is going to be helping me on a case and we have some information we need to review together. We'll just use the library and put up some charms to keep the noise out; you guys go ahead and have fun.”

“Hermione,” Draco whined. “It's Saturday night. You're supposed to be having fun too, not working again. You're going to make Harry cranky, and you know I don't like it when Harry gets cranky.”

“It's all right, Draco,” soothed Severus. “I promise to make sure she doesn't work too late.” Taking Hermione's elbow, he led her down the hallway to the library.

Hermione flounced down on the sofa and watched Severus as he warded the room to keep the sounds of merriment from distracting them. He finally lit the fire in the hearth to warm the room, and came to stand, gazing down at her, his hands buried in his pockets.

“There isn't going to be any shagging tonight, is there?” she asked glumly, looking up at him. 

“I'm afraid not. Not tonight,” he said with a wry smile. He added, “It's probably for the best. Things were moving much too fast. I think perhaps it would be a good idea for us to take it a bit more slowly.”

She considered his words. “Just more slowly, right? You aren't trying to say that it's a bad idea all together, just that we shouldn't rush it. Correct?”

He sat next to her and stretched his legs out in front of him. “Oh no, I am certainly not saying it's a bad idea. We obviously have chemistry.” To illustrate this point he leaned in to kiss her. It was not frantic like before, but it was sweet and tender and unbearably sexy. Hermione felt it all the way to her toes. “See? Enough chemistry to blow up a whole fucking lab. It just seems like circumstances are working against us tonight,” Severus explained as he pulled away.

Hermione heaved a sigh. “Very well, at least we can get some work done.” She pulled Augusta's appointment book, journals, and medical records out of her bag and enlarged them, placing them in a neat pile on the table. She reached for the appointment book, but hesitated and turned toward Severus.

“You're absolutely sure that you aren't just saying that stuff about taking things slowly because you don't want to shag me, are you? Because if you've changed your mind, I'd rather you just tell me right now.”

Severus rolled his eyes and grabbed Hermione's hand. “For Circe's sake, Hermione! Does this feel like I don't want you, witch? This is what you do to me with just a simple kiss,” he snarled, pressing her hand to his erection.

Her eyes grew huge. Then her grin did too. Hermione looked entirely too pleased with herself. She squeezed him lightly, rubbing her hand up and down, feeling the shape of him, before he groaned and pulled her hand away. 

“So when you say we need to slow it down a bit, you really do just want to take things slower, not stop entirely. Sort of like you want to court for a bit first, is that right?”

“Yes, good things come to those who wait, but Hermione, I will warn you. I have a feeling it's going to be a very short courtship.” 

“A short courtship sounds good to me, Severus,” she replied with a smile, reaching again for Augusta's planner. “In fact, short sounds phenomenal.” 

~*~

Things went well for about five minutes as they organized their reference materials. They moved to the library table so they could spread things out. Then Hermione refused to tell Severus her theories up front; instead she wanted him to go over the date book and see if he came to the same conclusions that she had. 

“Hermione, for Merlin's sake. Just tell me what it is you want me to know,” he demanded.

“No, Severus, I want to see if you see the same trends I do, or if I my ideas are skewed. I will admit to more than a little bit of bias on one pertinent point and it may be coloring my judgment,” said Hermione, trying to explain her reasoning for having Severus study it and draw his own conclusions. 

“Look, I'll tell you this much. Augusta's life ran like clockwork. She did the same things each month, went to the same meetings, the same appointments, etc. So from the beginning of the year you need only make note of what her normal routine was. Once that is established, what I want you to do is pay more attention to the last three months or so prior to her death. Then tell me what you think.”

With a sigh and a dirty look Severus pulled the appointment book close, along with a quill and parchment to take notes on. While he was doing that, Hermione began the same process on Augusta's journals. 

After about an hour, Hermione was spending more time watching Severus surreptitiously than she was on studying the journals. It was driving her crazy. He hadn't said a single thing. He'd made a few notes on the parchment and now he seemed to be flipping through the months and then back to the last month, checking and re-checking something. 

Finally without even looking up he said, “I can feel you watching me, you know.”

“Sorry,” mumbled Hermione, looking down at the journal in her hands. Within seconds, her gaze was back on Severus.

“You're still doing it,” Severus said, standing to stretch.

“I can't help it; you're driving me crazy. What do you think?” she finally asked, unable to stand the suspense any longer.

“You were correct. Augusta's schedule was something you could set your watch by. However, before her death there is a very noticeable variation. I can't help but think by the activity of the last few months there was something unusual going on and it had something to do with Hogwarts.”

“Yeeessss,” hissed Hermione. “I concur. What do you think it is? Do you have any ideas?” she asked eagerly.

“Oh no, no,” Severus scolded. “I played along with this. Now it's your turn to tell me your ideas.” 

Hermione stared at him with big frightened eyes. Now that it came right down to it she wasn't sure of herself. Her hands covered her mouth as if she were afraid to say the words and she looked from the date book to Severus and back several times before she found the courage to speak. She lowered her hands, clasping them before her. “I think it has something to do with Minerva,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Severus frowned. He obviously hadn't been expecting that. “Minerva?” He moved to sit in the chair next to her, draping one hand over the back of her chair and leaning the other elbow on the table as he studied her closely. “Minerva and Augusta were friends for many years. Are you suggesting that Minerva had something to do with Augusta's death? That she may have—” 

“NO! No, certainly not. I don't believe that's possible. I can't... I won't,” Hermione hurried to explain. “But whatever was going on, I'm sure it involved Minerva. Maybe she knows something, or maybe she's covering up for someone else. I don't know what it is, but I know she's changed. She's not acting like herself and hasn't been for quite some time.”

“Acting differently does not necessarily mean she is involved in murder or the cover up of one,” argued Severus.

At Hermione's frustrated look, he dropped his hand onto her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “You've had longer to study this than I have. Show me what led you to this conclusion,” he suggested reasonably.

Hermione nodded and scooted closer to the table, pulling the date book in front of her. “Well, I'm sure you noted the regular pattern of Augusta's activities each month: the first Wednesday is the Hogwarts Board of Governors meeting; the first and third Saturdays are lunch with Neville in Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley; the second and fourth Sundays are tea with Minerva; the second Tuesday is the St Mungo's board meetings; the third Thursday the Orphans Fund Group; the fourth Wednesday is a book club meeting at Flourish and Blotts.” 

Severus pushed the parchment he'd been taking notes on over toward her. “Yes, I made note of all those standing appointments and meetings,” he said, showing her his notes. 

“Good, then you see the pattern. Always the same every month, aside from once or twice changing her meeting with Neville to Friday night dinner when he was assigned to supervising students on a Hogsmeade weekend. Otherwise, always steady, never changing.”

Hermione flipped the pages and pointed to Augusta's notations. “Yet look here, in March. _Tea with Min, ___was noted clearly, but it was crossed off and underneath it said _Min not at HW._ ”

Severus looked to where she pointed. “Minerva not at Hogwarts,” he interpreted. He shrugged. “There could be a simple explanation. She may have been called away, or perhaps she forgot about it.”

Hermione looked at him skeptically. “She forgot a standing appointment for tea with her good friend. An appointment that they had been keeping for months—hell, scratch that—I'd hazard a guess for years. And suddenly Minerva just doesn't show up and she doesn't even bother to contact Augusta to let her know that she's not going to be there?”

Severus rubbed his chin, considering. “I'll admit, that does seem a bit odd,” he said.

“You think that's odd? Look at this.” Hermione flipped two pages forward. “Two weeks later, the fourth Sunday: _tea with Min_ , crossed out again this time noted under it: _canceled by Min_ , with a series of question marks after it. What the hell is going on? Is Minerva avoiding Augusta? Did they have an argument or falling out over something? I don't think so, as Augusta clearly expected to have her regular Sunday tea with Minerva, and by those question marks I'd say Augusta certainly seems to think it's odd, too.” 

“Hmmm... You may have a point,” said Severus. “Is there more?”

“You bet your sweet arse there's more,” said Hermione, hurrying on. “Look, two weeks later, Minerva doesn't cancel this time, but August notes on that date afterward _tea cut short by Min_. Then on the next Sunday they're supposed to meet, Minerva cancels yet again. So now, out of two months, Minerva has missed or canceled three of their four appointments. The one she did finally show up for she cut short. These two have been having Sunday tea twice a month for years; this is not normal behavior.” 

“I'd have to agree, but what exactly was happening? Why was Minerva avoiding Augusta? What reason could she have?” Severus looked puzzled.

“I'm not sure, but at this point I'm pretty sure Augusta was getting worried about her friend. She starts just popping in to Hogwarts, trying to catch Minerva at random times. See the first Wednesday, the Board of Governors meeting, she notes _go early to see Min_ , then adds _not available_. Then after her lunch with Neville _check on Min_. Then the following week she actually skipped her St. Mungo's board meeting to try to catch Minerva in her office, and when that didn't work, she came back again on Thursday in the middle of the day.”

Severus pulled the date book over for a closer look. “Augusta did not take her civic obligations lightly. For her to skip that meeting is totally out of character for her.” Looking at the next week, Severus pointed out, “Minerva didn't cancel this week's tea.”

Hermione looked at the date he was pointing at. “You're right, but two days later Augusta was dead.”

“You haven't told anyone of your suspicions?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. What would I say? 'I think Mrs. Longbottom may have been murdered because her date book entries look a little weird'. Or 'I think it's suspicious that her best friend canceled Sunday tea.' ”

“Are you sure the reason you haven't said anything isn't because you're afraid to implicate Minerva in Augusta's death?”

Hermione sighed. “I know it looks bad, but I can't believe she is capable of such a thing. Maybe she's being blackmailed and somehow Augusta found out. Maybe the blackmailer killed Augusta to keep her quiet. Maybe Minerva is protecting someone. I just don't know what's going on. At this point I have nothing but a feeling in my gut. If you don't think I'm totally nuts, then I guess our next step is checking out her diaries and medical records.

Severus stood and gathered her into his arms. “No, I don't think you are _totally_ nuts.”

Hermione snorted as she rested her cheek against his chest. “Maybe just a little bit though, huh?”

He chuckled. “Maybe a little. But I do think you're onto something here.” Just then the clock struck two. With a sigh that turned into a yawn, he said, “We can't keep searching tonight. We're both too tired and we might miss something important. Let's get some rest and we'll start in again tomorrow.”

“You don't really want to go back to the keep tonight, do you? Why don't you stay here? I'm sure Harry won't mind.”

Severus rubbed his cheek against her hair. “What happened to us taking things slow?”

Hermione laughed. “Lech! I wasn't asking you to sleep with me. Although I wouldn't say no to a nice cuddle; I could stand the comfort. I was actually thinking that you could use your old room from the Order days if you wanted.” 

“It's tempting—the cuddle—not the old room, but I think I'd best go back to the keep. I'll return here tomorrow afternoon and we can get back to work.”

“If you insist. Come a little early though, Draco usually cooks Sunday brunch. I'm sure he'd love a new victim to show off his culinary skills to.”

“Maybe I will,” responded Severus as he tipped her face up to give her quick kiss goodbye.

Hermione had a revelation while tucking herself into bed. She was recalling that night at the keep when Severus had walked into her bedroom and caught her in the middle of a wank. She'd been so embarrassed she'd thought she would never be able to look at him again. The odd thing was, although she'd been thinking of Timothy that night, every time since then it had been Severus who had crept into her mind. That bitch Anne might not have been too far wrong, after all. Maybe she really was psychic. 

~*~

Hermione stumbled toward the kitchen the next morning in search of a cup of tea and the promise of Draco's frittatas or something equally as appetizing. She bumped into Harry on the way down and they practically raced each other to the kitchen. They were both surprised, upon opening the door, to find Draco and Severus talking and laughing together over a cup of coffee. 

They both turned to greet the two in the doorway. Draco sauntered over to offer Harry a cup of coffee. “Good morning, you sexy thing,” he teased, running his fingers through Harry's hair and making him blush. Harry was open about his relationship with Draco, but he was always a bit embarrassed by overt displays of affection. 

“Draco!” he scolded. Then he mumbled, “Morning, Severus.”

“Good Morning Pott... er... Harry. Hermione.”

Hermione's face lit with a smile. “Good morning, Severus. You're here early.”

He nodded. “I come bearing gifts,” he said, flipping a napkin off a plate on the counter next to him. It was full of assorted Italian pastries. “Compliments of Zia Sophia.”

“Oh sweet goddess, I think I love you,” she said, drifting over to study the tray. “Ummm... My favorites are the baby bite-sized cannolis.” She reached to take one from the tray.

Severus smacked her hand and pulled the plate away. “Uh, uh. Mustn't spoil your appetite. Draco has something special planned.” Her look of disappointment was so sad he nearly chuckled. “Oh, very well. I suppose just one won't hurt. The cannoli, you say?”

She nodded eagerly. When he picked one out and offered it to her, instead of taking it from him, she opened her mouth for him to feed it to her. Harry and Draco glanced at each other and grinned. As Hermione took her second bite of the sweet, some of the cream oozed out of the end onto Severus' finger. Not hesitating for an instant, she sucked his finger into her mouth, swirling her tongue over his finger tip to get every last bit. “Ummm... yummy!” she declared with a saucy smirk on her face as she licked her lips.

It was Severus' turn to flush now. He leaned in close and whispered too low for the boys to hear, “You'll pay for that later, woman.” She just smiled and rolled her eyes at him, taking a sip from his coffee cup.

“Hey, Draco, maybe I'll try the coffee instead of tea this morning for a change.” Draco nearly cheered. He'd been trying to get her to give his morning coffee a try for weeks now. Turning back to Severus, she asked, “You stopped in at Larosas' already this morning?”

“Yes, I'd mentioned to Tony last night the sort of things we import. He was thinking they might try some specialty items to make one or two signature dishes. So I brought him a price list and offered him a generous 'friends only' discount.”

“What a wonderful idea,” she agreed.

~*~

After brunch they returned to the library to work on their research. They agreed that Hermione would start out with the journals and Severus would review and compare Augusta's medical records.

Hermione, at first, was tempted just to read certain days pertinent to dates in the date book, but then she thought she might miss some important detail so she decided to start at the beginning and go through them all. She skimmed through the oldest ones first, and then paid a bit more attention to the later ones.

Severus reviewed the information from Augusta's yearly physical first and then the results of the magical tests done after her death. Once finished, he began comparing the two for discrepancies. 

They both worked in silence for quite a while, aside from the occasional stray comment or muttered swear word. Finally Severus stood and paced for a while, thinking. After a bit he began searching through the bookshelves, clearly looking for something. 

Hermione had watched him pace out of the corner of her eye, but had said nothing until he started looking for books. “If you're looking for something specific, maybe I could help,” she offered. 

“There is a particular book that has a section regarding the combination of certain potions with Dark Curses. I'm sure I recall a copy of it being here in the Black library. The author was Springley, or Bringley, or something like that.”

“Dark Curses: Fact and Fiction by Jedidiah Q. Bingley?”

“Yes! That's the one. You're brilliant! Where is it?”

She grimaced and shook her head glumly. “Confiscated by the Ministry after the war. There was a good portion of one chapter dedicated to Horcruxes. I think that's the real reason the Ministry insisted on taking it. Harry was furious at the time. He tried to point out, that if we hadn't had access to the knowledge from books like that, we would never have been able to stop Voldemort. Besides, anyone with any sense knows that it's the intent that determines whether a spell is Dark or Light. In the end he couldn't stop them, though.” 

“Bloody buggering balrogs!” he cursed. 

“Now there's a scary visual,” said Hermione with a chuckle

Severus couldn't help but smirk, “It is, isn't it? I see you've read Lord of the Rings; of course you have, you're Hermione Granger, you've read everything. ” Saying that, his eyes widened at the realization of what he'd just said. “In fact, I'll bet you've even read: Dark Curses: Fact and Fiction. Perhaps you recall a particular section about...” Hermione was already shaking her head. “What? You don't even know what section I'm going to ask you about.”

“The only section I was particularly interested in at that time was the one about Horcruxes. We were a little busy just then, if you'll recall. I didn't have time read the whole book, Severus. I'm sorry.”

Severus paced for a couple more minutes, and then he headed straight for the door. 

“Where are you going?” asked Hermione.

“I'll be back in an hour or two. I think I know where I can find a copy of that book,” he called on his way out.

~*~

Hermione pored over the journals. It was like putting pieces of a puzzle together, a few words here, a hint there, a reference to something else in another spot. She suddenly remembered something she'd read in one of the earlier books. Hermione thumbed quickly through, looking for the entry. Then she found it: _Letter arrived from Hogwarts. Disaster. Oh, Min, what have you done?_

Hermione slumped in her seat and stared at the page. What did it mean? What had Minerva done? Disaster for whom? For Minerva, for Hogwarts, for Augusta, for someone else? Hermione couldn't help but think this was a key bit of information. 

She picked up the final book, from the last few months of Augusta's life. Whatever was happening with Minerva at that point seemed to be coming to a head. She'd started to avoid and ignore her old friend, the very friend whom she had trusted with the knowledge of whatever it was, just a year or so earlier. That seemed so unlike her. Although Augusta did not speak of specifics in her daily entries, her worry and frustration were clear. 

Hermione gnawed at her thumbnail, a nervous habit she'd had since childhood. She kept turning the little bits and pieces over and under and around in her mind, trying to get them to fit into the puzzle, but they wouldn't fit. Why wouldn't they fit, the sodding little shits! Arrrgghh! Something was missing... but what?

Hermione scrubbed her hands over her face in frustration. The answer was right there, so close she could almost see it, but not quite. She took a deep breath. You can do this, Hermione. Think! 

Okay, it has to do with Minerva, probably tied to whatever disastrous thing it was that she did. Augusta knows but she won't tell. Why? Why not tell Neville? Because she's afraid for Neville, that's why. He's at Hogwarts. If he starts snooping around, trying to get information, he might end up dead, just like Augusta. 

Yet, Augusta has made it clear that she doesn't trust Severus. But why? She doesn't really know him very well, does she? Still, for some reason... What if the disastrous thing that Minerva had done was something to do with Severus? And Augusta thinks he discovered it and is holding it over Minerva's head. Then after spending weeks popping in trying to get to Minerva, Augusta dies, probably from poison if Severus' research means anything. And of course who would she suspect of poisoning her but the Potions master. But we know that it couldn't be Severus. Neville and I both trust him. So if not Severus it would have to be someone... 

Suddenly all the puzzle pieces fell into place with a snap. “Oh no! Oh, fuck no!” whispered Hermione. She quickly opened the very first journal, looking for an entry she had merely skimmed earlier. There it was, Augusta's comments made after a meeting of the Hogwarts Board of Governors. Suddenly everything started to make sense. Of course this entire theory hinged on whether the thing Minerva had done was somehow connected to Severus. She had to find out. She had to either convince Augusta to tell her the truth, or tear her rooms apart to find that letter from Minerva.

Hermione threw everything into her beaded bag, snatched up her wand and ran out the door. “Harry!” she shouted as she dashed down the hallway. 

Harry stuck his head out of the front sitting room. Draco was right behind him. “Hermione, what's wrong?”

“Listen to me, Harry. This is very important. I have to go to Toadstool Keep and confront Augusta about something. When Severus comes back, send him there right away. Oh, and get a hold of Neville, too. I might need his help. Please, Harry, do this for me. I can't wait. I have to go right now.” Without giving Harry a chance to ask any questions or try to stop her, she was out the door and Apparating away.

 

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Harry looked at Draco. Draco looked at Harry.

“What just happened?” asked Harry.

“I don't know, but it sounded serious,” replied Draco. “Did she say Augusta? As in... Longbottom? I thought Neville's grandmother was dead.”

“It must have something to do with a case she's working on. That's why Snape is helping her, I'll bet. It must have something to do with Neville's gran.” Harry shook his head. “I don't like it. I have a very bad feeling about this, Draco.”

“Me too,” Draco agreed. “Send your Patronus with a message to Neville. Then come with me. We won't wait until Severus gets back. I know where he is; we'll go there now.”

~*~

Harry and Draco came through the Floo directly into the library at Malfoy Manor, where they found Severus and Lucius hunched over a pile of books and parchments. The two looked up, startled at the unexpected arrival.

“Draco, what is the meaning of this?” asked Lucius. He knew that Draco and Potter were together, so to speak, but he had yet to be confronted by the evidence outright. That fact had just changed as they had stumbled through the Floo with arms wrapped around each other.

“Sorry, Father. I wasn't sure if I could safely side-along Harry through the wards and there wasn't time to Apparate outside the perimeter and walk in. We needed to get here as quickly as possible and I figured as long as we arrived together, and he was with me, he'd come to no harm by coming through our Floo. At least I hoped so.”

“You hoped so?” grumbled Harry. “Draco, you git!”

“Well, I was pretty sure. Why do you think I was holding on to you so tightly?” said Draco with a grin.

“Because you kinda' like me?”

“Knock it off,you two.” Severus stood and confronted the two, with worry in his eyes. “Why were you in such a hell fired hurry to get here?”

“It's Hermione,” Harry began. “She dashed off—said she had to go to Neville's home and confront Augusta about something.”

“She seemed quite frantic about the whole thing,” contributed Draco.

“She told us to send you there as soon as you came back to Grimmauld Place, and to get word to Neville that she might need his help as well,” Harry said.

“Yes, but we figured we shouldn't wait, so we came here to get you,” explained Draco.

“Damn and blast! Would it fucking kill her to just wait for assistance before taking off and trying to handle everything on her own?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “This is Hermione Granger we're talking about here. You do know her, right?”

“Sod it all!” swore Severus. “She is THE most, annoying, maddening, irritating, vexing, worrisome witch I have ever known!”

Harry and Draco looked at each other then back to Severus. “Yeah, that pretty much sums up Granger to a tee, if you ask me,” drawled Draco with a grin.

Lucius clasped his hand on Severus' shoulder. “Severus, we are accomplishing nothing standing here. Let's go to the Longbottom estate at once before your witch discovers the information she seeks and takes it into her head to go to Hogwarts on her own.”

Severus paled at Lucius' comment and quickly gathered up several pages of notations, shrinking them to fit into his pocket. He Apparated away without even taking time to don his black frock coat that was left hanging on the back of the chair.

“Dear lord. It must be love. I've never seen Severus so befuddled. Come along, boys. We'd best go keep an eye on things,” said Lucius, gathering up Severus' coat.

“Father, would you alter the wards to allow Harry safe access? He intends to become a regular visitor from this point on,” said Draco.

“I do?” asked Harry.

“You do if you know what's good for you,” replied Draco.

“Yes, dear,” teased Harry.

“Oh, good lord,” mumbled Lucius, even as he changed the wards. “I never thought I'd end up with Harry Potter as my son-in-law. Let's go now, gentlemen, before we miss out on all the fun.”

~*~

The three arrived at Toadstool Keep to find everything in total chaos.

The four Longbottom house-elves were gathered on the lawn outside the home. One elderly elf, paced back and forth, his hands clasped behind his back, glancing up worriedly at the house and over at Severus periodically. Two others, who appeared to be twins, sat cross-legged on the lawn, one sobbing hysterically while the other tried to comfort her. The fourth was calmly trimming the bushes and seemed completely unaffected by it all.

Severus, meanwhile, was swearing up a blue streak and trying to untangle the wards to get into the house. Occasionally he just blasted a hex at it in frustration.

Harry and Draco stared open-mouthed, unsure what exactly they should do. Lucius, quickly assessing the situation, addressed his question to the elder house-elf. “I am Lucius Malfoy. You appear to be the majordomo. Apprise me of the situation.”

Griswold's eyes grew larger, if that were possible; he had obviously heard of Mr. Malfoy. He immediately recognized the voice of authority and hastened to explain the situation. “I is Griswold, the head house-elf, sir. The shade of the old Mistress has ejected the staff from the house, and summoned up most ancient of wards. Even house-elves cannot breaches them. Only a true heir of the Longbottom line can brings them down. She be's in there now with Missy Hermione; much shoutings was happening. Pippi...” He pointed to the sobbing elf on the grass. “...is muchly fond of the young miss and tried to stay with her, to protect her from the Mistress' anger. Mistress sends Pippi out, anyway, with a _jumper._ ” He whispered the last three words, and said jumper as if it were something vile. “I tries to explain all of this to master Severus. He does not listens, though,” concluded the old elf, glancing over at Severus with a worried expression.

“Very good, Griswold. Thank you. Your master has been summoned, and I expect he should arrive here shortly.

“Until Neville does arrive to lower the wards, I'll go and try to calm Severus a bit,” said Lucius. “He is not normally as erratic as this,” he commented as he watched Severus throw a _Confringo_ at the keep, only to have it hit the wards and ricochet off. It barely missed Draco and Harry, who dove apart to avoid being hit. Ultimately it blasted an ornamental bush, sending branches, leaves and little fuchsia-colored berries flying everywhere. This elicited an angry screech from the elf who had been trimming shrubs. “Hmmmph... Obviously the gardener elf,” muttered Lucius.

“Severus, do stop before you do some real harm to one of us,” called Lucius. He strolled up casually as if he were doing no more than taking a leisurely walk in the park.

“Damn it all, Lucius. There must be a way to break these bloody wards!” exclaimed Severus.

“Oh there is,” Lucius assured him.

“Wonderful. Then do it,” demanded Severus.

“The only way to break through these wards is to wait for the heir to arrive. Potter has summoned Longbottom, and as soon as he gets here, we will have access to the house.”

That is unacceptable!” declared Severus.

“Nevertheless, you shall accept it, as you have no other choice. Severus, be reasonable. These are lineage based wards, activated through the matriarchal line. No one but her heir will be able to bring them down, not you nor I nor even the exalted Harry Potter. We've none of us got the right bloodlines, you see,” Lucius explained calmly.

Severus eyed Lucius suspiciously before turning to poke tentatively at the wards with his wand, feeling for their source. “Fuck,” he declared, recognizing the truth of Lucius' statement.

Luckily, at that point, Neville arrived. He took one look at Severus and quickly assessed the seriousness of the situation. Within minutes he'd begun the process of lowering the wards. After all the pure magic Severus had used, in the end, it was rather simple. It did, however, require just the right combination of elements and spells. Neville gathered earth from the estate mixed with water from a nearby stream that ran through the property. He mixed these together to make some muddy finger paint and with it he drew a series of symbols and runes around the entryway while chanting the proper incantations. He concluded the ritual by making a small cut on his palm and, after smearing the blood on both of his hands, he made two hand prints, one on either side of the door.

The wards came down as softly as newly fallen snow.

~*~

As the door opened with ease, the group hastened inside only to find the place eerily silent.

“Oh, damn! This can't be good,” muttered Severus, heading immediately up the stairs, followed closely by Neville, Draco, and Harry. Lucius followed too, but he took his time, strolling along, admiring the architecture of the old house.

It wasn't until they reached the top of the stairs and were halfway down the hallway of Augusta's wing that they heard a shout from Hermione. “Tell me! Damn it all, Augusta. Tell me what it is!”

Neville reached his gran's suite of rooms and opened the door. Severus was right there and elbowed him aside to get to Hermione. She glanced over her shoulder at him. Giving him a small smile, she held up her hand, signaling him to wait. Hermione turned back toward Augusta as the others shuffled into the room beside Severus.

“Augusta, please, I can't express how very important this is. I know there is some reason you believe Severus to be culpable, that you think he has been controlling Minerva, that he is responsible for your death, but he is not the one. I swear to you he's not. I don't know how to make you believe.” Hermione looked desperately at the others. Then she turned back toward Augusta and fell to her knees, her hands held out in supplication. “I will take an Unbreakable Vow, if that's what it takes to convince you. I know that he is innocent of what you accuse him, and I will swear to it.”

“Hermione... Don't...” Severus began, reaching down to pull her up.

Neville stepped in, pulling Severus aside a bit so that he could slip in next to Hermione. At exactly the same time, sensing what Neville was about to do, Harry stepped to her other side. Both of them fell to their knees next to her.

“I'll swear it too, Gran. You are wrong about Severus. If it takes a Vow to convince you of that, I'll give it freely,” said Neville.

“So will I, Mrs. Longbottom,” said Harry.

“Oh for fuck's sake! Of all the ridiculous, idiotic, Gryffindoric... ” Severus nudged both boys aside to crouch down and wrap his arms around Hermione, pulling her up to stand. “No one is taking any Vows here today on my behalf, my dear,” he said gruffly, holding her close. “Get up you two,” he snapped at Neville and Harry.

The two scrambled to their feet and looked sheepishly at Severus.

Draco rolled his eyes as he reached for Harry and whispered, “Merlin's balls, Harry. You Gryffs are so bloody dramatic sometimes.” Yet, at the same time, he wrapped his fingers around Harry's hand and gave it a tight squeeze.

Hermione turned again to face Augusta, her back now pressed to Severus' chest. He refused to let go of her, and he kept his arms wrapped around her waist. “Augusta, I know that the reason you were so suspicious of Severus has something to do with the secret that Minerva is hiding, but I don't know for sure what it is. You must tell us the truth.”

“She is my best friend, closer than my own sisters. You are asking me to reveal things that could destroy her,” cried the old lady.

“Believe me. I truly do understand that kind of friendship. To be closer than family...” Hermione glanced over at Harry, with a watery smile. “To be willing to protect their secrets, to do anything to keep them safe from harm, to protect them beyond all costs, to be willing to die for them... We understand that more than most because we've lived it, too. I don't know if you understand now how truly grave the situation is for Minerva, if it's not already too late.” Hermione choked on a sob as tears streamed down her face.

A hand appeared in front of her, holding out a pristine linen hanky. Hermione took the cloth from Lucius' hand with her whispered thanks as she sopped up her tears.

“Augusta, Severus did not do the things you believed, but someone else did, and he's still doing them. We need to stop him, but we need your help. We have to know the whole truth in order to figure it out. Please help us. I know you love Minerva as a friend, as a sister. I love her, too. She was my teacher and my mentor and my role model. It broke my heart when I thought she had turned her back on me, but I know now there were other forces at play. Please, please help us save her.”

Augusta gazed out through the window, over the grounds of the keep. Finally she cleared her throat and wiped a ghostly tear from her cheek as she turned and started telling her tale. “When Albus Dumbledore died, Minerva was made executrix of his will. There were certain things to be doled out, bits and baubles for the most part, sentimental bequests. The bulk of his estate, however, and believe me it was considerable, was left to one man alone, Severus Snape.”

She looked directly at Severus, who stared back in disbelief.

“Minerva was livid. She was convinced that Albus had misplaced his trust in Snape and had been betrayed in the end. She swore that you would never see a knut of Albus' money, Snape. Over her dead body, those were her very words. So she changed the will.”

“Wait. She altered the will. Did she keep the money for herself?” asked Draco. “That doesn't sound like McGonagall.”

“Don't be a fool, boy!” snarled Augusta. “Minerva McGonagall is no thief. She funneled the money into the Order of the Phoenix, to fund the war efforts. It takes a lot to run a war; ask your father about that, young Malfoy. I'm sure he understands the costs.”

Instead of looking offended, Lucius merely nodded his head regally and replied, “How very true indeed, Madam Longbottom. However, sometimes the funds are freely given and sometimes they are taken by coercion. I'm sure you also realize the truth of the matter is that it is not only Gryffindors who would to do anything to keep their loved ones safe from harm, or to protect them beyond all costs?”

Augusta eyed Lucius closely, then inclined her head in acknowledgment. “How true, sir,” she replied solemnly. “How very true.”

“At any rate,” she continued, “once the war was over, Minerva realized where Snape's true loyalty had lain all along. She was horrified by what she'd done, realizing that Albus truly had wanted Snape to have it all, but the money was gone. She had no way to pay it back. She knew if it ever came out she would be ruined beyond repair. She would be branded as a liar and a thief, removed from Hogwarts, from the headship, possibly even sent to Azkaban. She was guilt-ridden, not only for the money, but for not having the faith in you that Albus had. She swore that somehow she would find a way to pay it all back. I would have gladly given her the money, if I had it, but you've all seen the state of Toadstool Keep. There's no fortune left in the Longbottom coffers, I'm afraid.”

“But, Gran, from what you say, Severus was the victim in all this. What made you so suspicious of him?” asked Neville.

“Early this year, I noticed a distinct difference in Minerva's actions, in her demeanor. More than just her guilt, she was acting strangely, so I started wondering what was going on. It occurred to me that perhaps Snape had discovered the truth and was blackmailing her. Minerva's actions became more and more erratic, and then later withdrawn. The last time I saw her she was not herself at all, and Snape was there that day, too, so I was more certain than ever that he was involved. Two days later I was dead. I was sure he had slipped me a poison in my tea or something.”

“What? I was not at Hogwarts. When was this?” Severus demanded.

Hermione answered, “It was in May. Remember, Severus, when we reviewed the journals. It was mid-May when Augusta died.”

“Ahhh... I do recall now,” remembered Severus with a frown. “I went to follow up on my inquiry into the Potions position. I had applied when Horace left unexpectedly at mid-term, but a substitute had already been hired to finish out the year. Later, when I heard that the sub wasn't looking too promising as a permanent teacher, I again expressed an interest in coming back to teach. I was there that day to press my case to Minerva, but I was informed that it was out of the question. She said that neither the parents nor the Hogwarts Board of Governors would ever accept me back. I would never be trusted around the children, she'd said.”

Augusta looked puzzled. “That isn't true. The subject of you taking over the Potions position was never brought before the board. In fact, there were those on the board who would have welcomed the proposal, quite enthusiastically, I am sure.” She eyed Lucius pointedly.

“So, Minerva was either flat out lying, or being coerced,” reasoned Harry. His eyes suddenly lit up like a like a candelabra as realizations stuck. “Or it wasn't even her to begin with.”

“That's my theory, Harry,” agreed Hermione. “What we have going on here is Mad Eye Moody/Barty Crouch all over again.”

“Bloody hell!” exclaimed Neville, surging to his feet.

“Remember when I asked you if Minerva had been acting oddly, Neville?” Hermione asked him. At his nod, she continued. “You told me that she was rarely seen anymore, staying in her office, and hardly ever interacting with students or staff. That's not like Minerva; it sounded really suspicious to me. I started to wonder then what the explanation might be, or who might be responsible.”

“So who did you come up with as possible suspects?” asked Draco.

“Well, obviously it had to be someone with either access to, or the ability to produce Polyjuice in large quantities for one thing. Alternatively, someone who was able to cast an Imperious strong enough to control Minerva McGonagall,” explained Hermione.

“The MLE now has ways to monitor Unforgivables,” pointed out Lucius. “I'm sure an Imperius originating from Hogwarts would be questioned.”

“But there are potions,” said Severus. “Some of which, when combined with certain Dark Curses, can create a sort of mind control quite similar to an Imperius. Someone with the knowledge and access to certain reference materials would be able to produce it relatively easily.”

“By that you mean books like, 'Dark Curses: Fact and Fiction' by Jedidiah Q. Bingley?” asked Hermione, looking up at him with a small smile.

“Precisely,” answered Severus, returning her smile, as if they shared some sort of private joke between the two of them.

“And, if eliminating Madam Longbottom from the situation because of her interference was also required, then someone capable of brewing a poison that would mimic death by natural causes was needed as well. Once again, the ability of a Potions master is key. All this combined with her belief that he had the motive if he had learned about Dumbledore's bequest—it is rather easy to see why she suspected Severus, isn't it?” asked Lucius.

“It is indeed, Lucius. However, even had I known of Albus' will, I would not have pursued retribution against Minerva. The money went where it was needed most at the time, and the ultimate downfall of the Dark Lord was well worth any cost.”

“So is everyone else's obvious suspect the same person I'm guessing?” asked Draco, looking around at the rest of the group.

“Horace Slughorn,” five other voices answered in unison.

“But why?” asked Neville, his brow furrowed as he tried to reason it out. “I don't understand what his motive could possibly have been.”

“I think I may have figured that out earlier. That's what sent me off over here to confront Augusta,” explained Hermione. “I wondered why she had focused solely on Severus and hadn't even considered Professor Slughorn. I knew that Minerva had done something disastrous, according to another entry I'd read, and I figured that thing was tied to Severus somehow. Everything seemed to fall into place, except the motive. Then I remembered something I'd just skimmed over in one of the earliest entries I'd read.”

“By Salazar's saggy bollocks, Granger, don't leave it there. Tell us. What was it?” demanded Draco, leaning forward eagerly.

“Oh, sorry. Well, just think about Slughorn. What is the one thing he has always seemed to want more than anything?”

“Influence,” responded Harry, immediately. “He has always tried to curry the favor of people that he perceived as having influence, and by proxy, a sort of power, I suppose.”

“Exactly!” acknowledged Hermione. “And what is one of the most powerful positions in the wizarding world, aside from the Minister of Magic or perhaps the head of the Wizengamot?” Without waiting for an answer, she rushed onward. “Headmaster of Hogwarts, of course, and apparently he had pursued the position quite relentlessly after the war.”

“Yes, that's true,” said Augusta, thoughtfully. “You're right, he did, and he was quite put out when it was denied him. Livid, I'd say, in fact. As a sort of consolation prize, we did allow him to assume the deputy headmaster position, but it was only for one term, until Filius was recovered from his injuries. Once he was well, though, Minerva insisted that he be re-instated and Horace was demoted.”

“Which I am sure he interpreted as a slap in the face,” commented Lucius grimly.

“I'll bet he was bitter about that,” agreed Draco.

“Yes,” said Hermione. “And he stewed in that bitterness for a couple of years. Then I am guessing that somehow he found out the truth about Dumbledore's will and what Minerva had done. Perhaps he used it blackmail her. We all know Minerva. She may have caved in at first to buy time perhaps, but in the long run she wouldn't stand for that. After a while, I believe she would have confessed her guilt rather than let him continue to use her.”

“And if he figured out she was going to do that, he would have had to come up with another way to keep her under his control,” concluded Harry.

“Hence a copy cat version of the Moody/Crouch switcheroo,” added Neville.

“Oh, good Godric!” exclaimed Hermione, suddenly going pale and sitting hard on the chair at Augusta's desk.

All eyes shifted to her.

“Hermione, what's wrong?” asked Severus, clearly worried.

“I just had a horrible thought,” she said. “I can't imagine that he would want to impersonate Minerva indefinitely. At some point he would want to secure the Headmaster's position for himself. What better way to do that than to make himself the hero? He could expose the scandal of Albus' will and Minerva's actions and Augusta's murder. He even has the perfect scapegoat on whom to blame it all.” Hermione clutched the front of her shirt, as if her heart ached at the very thought. “You, Severus. He could blame it all on you, and get off free as a bird himself, while you would be banished to Azkaban or worse.”

“We don't know if that is his plan, my dear. Don't panic just yet,” reassured Severus. Then he stopped to consider. “Still, if that _is_ part of his plan, then time is of the essence, because....”

“Because, in order to do that, he would need to eliminate Minerva permanently,” said Lucius, finishing Severus' thought.

“We must go. Immediately!” cried Hermione, springing to her feet.

“Hermione, stop,” cautioned Severus. “We cannot simply dash off to Hogwarts and confront Slughorn.”

Harry stepped forward and asked boldly, “Why can't we?”

Why? Because...” began Severus.

Before he could list his reasons, Neville interrupted, “Harry's right. Why can't we? There are six of us and only one of him.”

“Yes,” agreed Draco, looking around at the others. “I'd say between the six of us and Horace Slughorn, old Sluggy doesn't stand a chance.”

“We've got Neville. He can get us through the gates easily enough,” said Hermione, already planning ahead. “And once we get inside, if we need reinforcements, we can recruit the old guard: Hagrid, Filius, Poppy. Once we explain the situation, they'll all stand with us. I know they will.”

Lucius stood with a grin and saluted Severus jauntily with the tip of his wand. “I'd say, old boy, that it's been decided. It looks to me like we're storming the castle.”

~*~

At Severus' suggestion they did not Apparate to the traditional arrival spot just outside the gate, but at the edge of the forest, out of sight of the castle. Severus, Hermione, and Lucius arrived together and hid in the shadows as they waited. Harry had announced that he needed to get something first and Draco and Neville had gone with him.

Hermione shivered . Evening was falling and the air was chill and damp. Hermione pulled out her wand to cast a warming charm, but Severus stilled her hand. “Let's not use any magic yet. It's probably undetectable, but just in case... I don't want to give our location away. Wait at least until we get inside the gates and onto Hogwarts grounds to use your wand.”

She nodded in agreement, putting her wand away as she shivered again. Before she knew it, Lucius was draping his cloak over her shoulders. “Mr. Malfoy, I couldn't,” she objected, moving to take it off and give it back.

“It's Lucius, Miss Granger, and of course you can. You're cold. Keep it for now.”

Severus wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back against him. “You're cold. Lucius offered. Keep it. I'd offer you my coat, but I seem to have misplaced it somewhere.”

Lucius snorted. When they both turned to look at him questioningly he explained, “You left it hanging on a chair in the library at the manor after you dashed off to the Longbottom estates in search of—how was it you described her again, Severus—ahh, yes, I do recall: 'The most, annoying, maddening, irritating, vexing, worrisome witch' you have ever known, the one otherwise known as Miss Granger, I believe. However, when I thoughtfully brought your coat with me, knowing that you feel positively undressed without it, and gave it to you at the keep, you promptly threw it to the ground in a hissy fit. I believe you even stomped on it.” Turning to Hermione, he confided, “He then declared, rather emphatically, that he didn't give a flying fig about the effing coat when he was trying to figure out a way to get to you. He was clearly quite distraught, my dear.” Lucius patted her arm and said with a smile, “Keep the cloak.”

“Oh, very well. Thank you then, Lucius, and it's Hermione. I suppose if we are going to be storming the castle together we should be on a first name basis.”

She leaned back into Severus and snuggled against him as she whispered, “I like you holding me like this. I think I could easily get used to it.”

“I'd rather like it if you did,” he whispered, nuzzling against her ear, causing her to shiver again, and not from the cold.

After several minutes, Severus complained. “Where on earth is that brat and what is taking him so long?

“If he's gone to fetch what I think he has, you'll be thanking him,” replied Hermione. Then she explained that she assumed he had returned to Grimmauld to get his invisibility cloak, and even more important, the Marauder's Map.

Before too long the other three arrived and Neville escorted them through the gates with no problem whatsoever. Harry produced the map and they all stood huddled in a circle, surveying the situation inside the castle. Most of the students were in their dorms or the common areas. A few of them were located in the library and a couple in stray classrooms, probably serving detentions. Madam Pince was in the library, and Poppy in the infirmary. A couple of teachers were in the staff room, some in their quarters, and lo and behold there in the headmistress' office was Horace Slughorn.

“Does that mean he is in his own form?” asked Draco. “If he's Polyjuiced to look like McG, would it say her name on the map or would it still say Slughorn?”

“When Pettigrew was in the castle using his Animagus form, the map still said Pettigrew. It works the same with Polyjuice,” replied Harry. He glanced sideways at Hermione as she made a tiny whimpering sound.

“She's not there,” she whispered in distress. “I don't see Professor McGonagall anywhere in the castle.”

Harry leaned close and pulled her into a hug. “It doesn't mean she's not there, love. The map is helpful, but it isn't infallible. We both know that there are places that the map doesn't show us. She could be hidden somewhere. Don't give up hope.”

Hermione nodded but didn't look at all convinced.

They debated the best method to proceed and finally decided on a plan. Neville, being the only one of them with any right to actually be in the castle would lead. He would take Harry with him, using the pretense that he'd run into him in Hogsmeade and that Harry wanted to speak with the Headmistress. If pressed, they would say that he had information about Dumbledore's will. That would be sure to get Slughorn's attention.

It was finally decided that Draco would accompany them beneath the Invisibility Cloak. Hermione had argued against that, saying that Draco was much too tall to be hidden by the cloak, while it would cover her easily. However, she was overruled, as Draco insisted on staying close to Harry, and Severus was rather reluctant to let Hermione out of his sight. Once Neville, Harry and Draco had secured the office, then Severus, Hermione, and Lucius would join them.

After that it would just be a matter of keeping Slughorn contained until the Polyjuice wore off. They would then force the truth out of him by whatever means necessary, whether it be Veritaserum, Legilimency, or whatever. Once they had his confession and he'd revealed Minerva's location, they would notify the authorities. Before that step took place, it had already been decided, at Severus' suggestion, that any of Horace's memories regarding Albus' will or Minerva's involvement would be conveniently Obliviated.

While the boys headed toward the entrance of the Headmistress' office, the other three followed closely behind under a Disillusionment Spell and ducked into an alcove to hide out until summoned. Barely a minute had gone by since the boys had disappeared up the turning stairway when Hermione heard something and stuck her head around to corner to peek out.

“Shit!” She twirled back around.

“What is it?” asked Severus.

“Professor Flitwick is coming down the hallway, headed straight for the Headmistress' office.”

“Damn!” exclaimed Lucius. “Now what? Should we Stun him? We can't very well, let him go up there.”

“I don't think I like that idea. He's one of the good guys,” objected Hermione.

“Well, we can't very well allow him to walk into the middle of it all, now, can we?” said Lucius.

“I agree we can't,” said Severus. “But I don't think stunning Filius is a good idea either.”

“I'm so happy to hear you say that, Severus.” The voice came from the entrance to the alcove. “What brings you here to Hogwarts? And who is that with you, by the way... Miss Granger? Oh lovely, and who else?” With a flick of his wand, the Disillusionments dropped. “Ahhh... Mr. Malfoy. Pray tell, what is the purpose of this little soirée?”

“Good evening, Filius. I don't suppose, if I said we couldn't tell you that, you'd simply accept it and just walk away?” asked Severus reasonably.

“No, probably not, Severus. Sorry,” responded the tiny Charms master. Although he appeared to be casually chit chatting with them, to the skilled observer it was apparent he was prepared for anything. His wand was at the ready, firmly gripped in his hand, stance slightly broadened, his weight forward on the balls of his feet, prepared to move in any direction an instant. In spite of his size, Filius Flitwick was one of the highest ranked duelists in Western Europe.

“Wait,” said Hermione, stepping forward between Professor Flitwick and her companions. “I think we should take him into our confidence. When all is said and done, it might be a good idea to have an impartial witness.”

“Hmmm... sounds intriguing. I say, Severus, are you planning a coup d'état?”

“Not exactly that, Filius. We do have reason to believe there is a similar situation here at Hogwarts to the one that occurred during the year of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. I think you will recall in that instance Alastor Moody was not himself.”

Filius frowned, but then after considering for a moment, his eyes widened and he nodded. “That would certainly explain a lot, I must say. It would indeed.”

Just then Harry's stag Patronus appeared. “Everything's secure. Come on up.”

“Mr. Potter's here, too? This must seem just like the 'good old days' to you Miss Granger,” said Professor Flitwick with a grin as he followed Severus to the stairs.

 

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

The group arrived at the head's office to be ushered in by Draco. He appeared surprised to see Flitwick, but said nothing. Horace-as-Minerva sat at the desk, bound to the chair by ropes conjured by an Incarcerous spell. Harry and Neville stood guard with their wands pointed at her/him. 

“Did you take his wand?” asked Hermione.

“Of course we did,” replied Harry. “We aren't stupid, Hermione. Give us some credit.”

Hermione stared at her mentor's face knowing it was someone else inside. She narrowed her eyes and then whipped out her wand. “ _Accio_ spare wands!” she cried. 

Within seconds she had five extra wands in her hands, embarrassingly, one of them her own. In addition to Slughorn's, she had collected one from Severus and and two from Lucius. Slipping her extra one back up her sleeve, she handed Severus' back to him along with Slughorn's, with a muttered apology. She then returned Lucius' to him.

“Two?” she asked.

“It never hurts to be prepared,” grumbled Lucius defensively.

“Sorry, Hermione. I didn't even think that he might have a spare,” apologized Harry, looking embarrassed.

Turning back to the desk, she pointed her wand again. “ _Accio_ Port... Errr... Let's make that _Accio_ Horace Slughorn's Portkeys!” She amended her original wording, not wanting to get pelted with a variety of illegal Portkeys. Sure enough, a ring flew off false-Minerva's pinky finger.

“Don't touch that!” shouted Severus, batting it to the ground with a wave of his wand. 

“Oh, good point,” conceded Hermione. She transfigured a piece of parchment into a little box and scooped the ring up into it before slipping it into her pocket. “Well, I guess now we just wait for the Polyjuice to wear off, correct?”

“Yes, it shouldn't be too long,” said Severus. 

“I expect he didn't take it until the gargoyle had announced us and he agreed to let us come up,” said Neville. 

“Polyjuice? This whole thing is ridiculous! I don't know what you're talking about. Filius, how could you let yourself be taken in by this group of malcontents? You must put an end to this farce immediately.”

“Sorry, I'm only here as an observer,” stated the diminutive Charms instructor as he climbed up onto a chair and sat back to enjoy the show. 

It didn't take too long, although it seemed like forever. In a little less than three quarters of an hour, the transformation began to take place. Minevera's slender form began to take on the bulk of Slughorn. Unfortunately, while Minerva's clothing had obviously been charmed to transfigure to his own when he changed, the ropes binding him didn't expand a bit.

Draco was the first to realize that there might be a problem. “Ummm... He's turning a rather lovely shade of blue. I think that probably means that he can't breathe.”

“Oh. Bloody hell!” exclaimed Hermione, rushing forward as he slumped bonelessly onto the desk. “Harry, release the ropes. We don't want him dead, and he needs to be conscious to tell us where Minerva is hidden.”

It happened in the blink of an eye. Hermione had no sooner grabbed Slughorn's shoulders to pull him upright than he had her in his clutches. He pulled her in front of him as a shield with a dagger held against her throat. “Drop the wand on the desk, Miss Granger.” 

She did as he ordered, but she threw it down with such force it rolled off the far edge of the desk. “You little bitch!” he snarled, tightening his hold on her. “In the long run, it doesn't matter, does it? Since we both know you have another up your sleeve, along with my Portkey in your pocket. Don't move, any of you,” he commanded the others. “This is a cursed dagger. If you force me to use it, there won't be any saving her from the results. I promise you that.”

“Lower your wands,” said Severus to the others, his face grim. If looks could kill, Horace Slughorn would be dead and roasting in the fiery pits of hell. 

“Good advice, Snape,” Slughorn responded. “Now, all of you, back away into the far corner.” As they complied, he began dragging Hermione over toward the door. First he quickly flicked a small vial from the desk and crushed it with his heel. 

When he got as far as the door he reached behind him, fumbling for the doorknob. As the hand holding the dagger to her throat slackened briefly, Hermione saw her chance. She dug her nails into his wrist and twisted it brutally away from her while she stomped as hard as she could on his instep. Twice. Then in a whirl she cupped her palm and smacked it hard against his ear. The dagger clattered to the floor and Slughorn clutched his ear. Hermione's knee caught him viciously in the crotch and he fell to the floor with a howl. She kicked him again for good measure and was drawing her leg back for one more well aimed kick when Severus caught her from behind and pulled her away. 

“Enough, love. He's had enough. He won't be going anywhere now.”

“Bastard!” she snarled at the man curled up on the floor.

“Hermione, what the fuck was that?” asked Neville in awe. 

“What?” Hermione brushed a strand of hair off her face. “Oh, that? Muggle self defense techniques. My mum insisted I learn them. I figured he wouldn't be expecting it. Wizards seldom do. They think without a wand a witch is defenseless.”

“Damn!” gasped Draco. “Remind me never to mess with Granger. She's one scary witch.”

Harry laughed. “We've all been saying that for years. Right, Neville?”

~*~

Slughorn was now secured and Severus had searched him for hidden weapons—twice. 

The man had refused to tell them anything at all so Severus brought out the Veritaserum. At this point he'd turned to Flitwick. “Filius, you have witnessed that Horace here was impersonating Minerva through the use of Polyjuice. You may be asked to testify to that. However, there is something else we need to do before we turn him over to the authorities. I don't think it is entirely legal for us to use Veritaserum on him. In fact, I'm sure it's not. Nevertheless, we intend to do whatever we must to protect Minerva. You should step out now so you won't be involved.” 

Filius looked at the others. He then drew Severus aside. Casting a privacy charm, he said, “Might this thing have something to do with Albus' will?”

Severus drew back in shock. “For fuck's sake, did everyone but me know about that blasted will?”

“There, there, Severus,” he said, patting his former colleague’s arm in a comforting gesture that he might have used on one of his first years. “That isn't the case at all. I knew about what Minerva had done from the very beginning. I didn't entirely approve, but I understood at the time why she did it. However, I fear I may have been the one to let the cat out of the bag to Horace, so to speak...” At this point the little man guffawed at his own words. “Oh, my. Cat... Minerva.” 

He paused then, at the furious look on Snape's face. “Sorry, that was unintentional. As was my slip to Horace. I believe he may have overheard me speak of it to Minerva one day. At any rate, what I am trying to say is that if this is the information you are looking for... Well, as a Charms master, I would be better equipped to cast the memory charms. More accurate, less chance of them being detected afterward, you understand.”

Severus now looked stunned.

“That is your intention, is it not? To discover exactly what Horace knows and then Obliviate any memories that might incriminate Minerva _before_ you turn him over to the authorities.” 

Severus nodded. “Are you sure you want to involve yourself in this manner, Filius? It is a serious offense.”

Flitwick held his hands out and shrugged. “We are all family here, Severus. I suppose that's why we took it so hard when we believed you'd betrayed us and why we felt so guilty when we realized that you hadn't. As far as doing this for Minerva? We look out for each other, protect each other. Well, aside from Horace I suppose. In the end, he was only looking out for himself. If you don't mind, Severus, I'll stay. I'll help.”

Severus held out his hand to his former colleague and friend. Shaking Filius' hand, he then banished the privacy charm and said to the others, “He's with us, all the way.”

In the end Horace gave up all his secrets save for one. The story played out almost precisely as Hermione had figured. He had been furious at being overlooked for the headmaster's job and in his twisted mind he truly believed himself much better suited to the post than Minerva. When he'd learned of Albus' will and how she had misappropriated the funds, he had thought to blackmail her into stepping down, but then he'd realized that there was no guarantee that he would be assigned the post in her stead. So he'd come up with the plan to become the power behind the throne, through the use of a mind control potion and Polyjuice. 

He'd kept her under his control, even forcing her to do all the routine, mundane tasks behind the scenes, while he took on the public role through the use of Polyjuice. Of course he couldn't take the chance of saying the wrong thing or tipping his hand so he had begun to limit the public appearances to a bare minimum, and tried to stay away from people who knew Minerva too well, especially those from her past. He claimed he hadn't actually planned to kill Augusta in the beginning, but he'd panicked. When she'd kept coming around in spite of 'Minerva' discouraging her from doing so, he'd brewed the Heart Cease Potion, and slipped it into her tea at her last visit. The potion mimicked heart failure, so at Augusta's age it looked like a natural death.

The one thing they failed to learn was Minerva's current location. He claimed she was alive, but every time they asked him where she was, Horace replied, “She's hidden.” or “I don't know.” 

Frustrated, Severus used Legilimency, but to no avail. He swore as he pulled out of Slughorn's mind, “Gods be damned! I don't understand it. He really doesn't remember, or he's hiding it somehow. He's not that good of an Occlumens. I'm sure of it.”

“He must have her imprisoned, but she could be anywhere. If we don't find her, what will become of her?” lamented Filius.

Suddenly Hermione gasped and rushed to kneel on the floor near the desk. “The vial that he crushed earlier. It must have contained the memories of where he is keeping her.” She sifted through the shards of glass embedded in the rug, slicing her fingers in her haste. Finding nothing left of the memory, she frantically dug about cutting herself even more.

Harry hurried to her side. “Hermione, stop! You're hurting yourself.” He pulled his friend up off the floor, to find Severus at their side. Harry held onto her while Severus used his wand to gently remove the bits of glass from her finger tips and then cast a healing spell.

Lucius crouched by the broken vial prodding it with his wand. When they looked at him, he shook his head. “There's nothing left. It's dissolved.”

“No!” cried Hermione. “How are we going to find her now?”

“Find who, ducky?”

All eyes turned to the doorway, where the poltergeist hovered. “Matilda,” snapped Neville. “Go away. This is not the time or place for your pranks.”

Ignoring the Herbology professor, Matilda floated over to Hermione. “Who is it you're looking for, love?”

“Oh, Tillie! A friend of mine is missing. We don't know where she is or if she's hurt or injured. We don't know how to find her,” explained Hermione. 

“Is she in the castle, Hermione? Because if she's here, I know the castle really well now, even all the hidden places. I could help you find your friend if you want me too.”

“Oh gods yes, Tillie. Could you?”

“You know I'd do anything for you, ducky. What's your friend look like?”

“It's Headmistress McGonagall, the real one that is. He's,” she paused to point at where Slughorn was tied up, “been impersonating her.”

“Oh yeah, he's a bad one, he is. So, you want the old moggy lady, right?” 

“Yes!” Hermione practically shouted. “Yes, that's exactly who we want. Do you know where she is?”

“Sure, I've been keeping her company from time to time. She's down below the dungeons, lower even than the dormitory and the classrooms. Down a few levels past that yet.”

“He's got her hidden in the catacombs,” declared Lucius. 

“It has to be,” agreed Severus. 

“The catacombs? I thought that was a Slytherin myth,” said Draco. 

“Not a myth,” said Severus, “but so very well hidden for so very long that, much like the Chamber of Secrets, the way to get in has been forgotten.”

“Pffffft... It's not forgotten. I can show you the way in,” called Matilda. “Come on, let's go!”

As she rushed to follow the Poltergeist, Neville grabbed her arm. “You seemed awfully chummy with Matilda, Hermione. She's only been here for a while. How do you know her?”

“Ummm... It's a long story, Neville. Maybe I'll tell you about it someday,” replied Hermione with a grin.

~*~

Matilda did indeed know the way. Harry, Neville, and Filius agreed to stay behind to guard Horace. Since tales about the catacombs were legendary in the Slytherin common room, all three of the Slytherins were determined to see them personally. Of course Tillie wasn't going to lead the way without Hermione, and so it was that the four found themselves on a journey that took them from the Headmaster's tower at the top of the castle to below the very depths of the dungeons. It really was a good thing they had Matilda to lead the way, because it was quite the labyrinth and they never would have found their way in or out on their own.

They found Minerva, somewhat frail, dirty, hungry, and a little befuddled from the mind control potion, but otherwise okay. Her condition was nothing a couple weeks under Poppy's care in the hospital wing couldn't repair. 

The Aurors were called and Horace was taken into custody. He was eventually tried and sentenced to life in Azkaban. There was never any mention of Albus' will, or of any wrongdoing regarding it, in any of the testimony given at his trial.

~*~

After some time passed, Minerva approached Severus with a proposal. He divided his time these days between three places: Toadstool Keep, Malfoy Manor, and Grimmauld Place. He still kept his business office for Seville Imports at the keep. He and Augusta got along much better these days although she still seemed to take great pleasure in antagonizing him, but it was all in sport now. He often stayed at Malfoy Manor with Lucius for days or weeks at a time as the whim took him. If not at either of those locations, then he would be found at Grimmauld Place where Hermione still spent most of her time. She was constantly saying she was going to look for a flat soon, but she never seemed to get around to it. 

On this particular day, Minerva had caught up with him at Grimmauld Place. Severus escorted her to the front sitting room and requested Kreacher bring tea. 

“You are looking quite well, Minerva. I'm happy to see you fully recovered from your ordeal.”

“Thank you so much, Severus, for everything you did to bring Horace to justice...”

“In all honesty, that was mostly Hermione's doing. I mean, of course I would have done anything in my power had I realized, but it was Hermione who did most of the detective work.”

“Well, I intend to speak to her, too, of course, but right now, I am here on another matter. About Albus' will. I know what you did, how you covered up my duplicity, protected me by Obliviating that particular memory from Horace.”

“Errrm... Minerva, excuse me, although it may have been my idea, it was actually Filius who did the deed. It is him you should be thanking for that task.”

“Filius! Well, that little liar. He said it was all your doing. Well, no matter who is responsible, I thank you, and I shall thank him as well, once I am done scolding him. However, that is not the real reason I am here. I have thought of a way to repay, at least in some small portion, what you should have received from Albus' estates.”

Severus sighed. “That is not necessary, Min, honestly.”

Minerva reached into her bag and withdrew a sheaf of papers. She laid them on the table and fiddled nervously with them for a moment before speaking. “Severus, Auggie told me what you said, that you didn't care about the money, that you were happy to have it go to the effort to defeat Tom. I still can't help but feel guilty, not so much for the money itself, but for my lack of faith in you.”

Severus reached across and laid his hand on hers. “You weren't supposed to believe in me. That was all part of the plan, wasn't it?”

“Yes, and a stupid plan it was, if you ask me. Of course no one did. If the real Albus were still here and not just that poncy portrait, I'd tell him so myself. Anyway, I have an idea and I won't take no for an answer. I know that you sold your family home to start up your business with Neville.”

“It was a two-up, two-down, hardly what you'd call an estate.”

Nevertheless, you sold it and now, from what I am told, you spend your days relying on the good graces of your friends to provide you with shelter.”

“Minerva, you make me sound destitute. Seville Imports is doing quite well. If I wanted to buy myself a house I could. I like being here with Hermione, and when Potter and Draco get on my nerves I go visit Lucius for a while. It all works out very well.”

“Well, this will work even better to my way of thinking.” She pushed the papers across the table to him.

“What is it?” he asked, not picking it up, eying it like something might jump out at him.

“It's a deed to your home.”

“Minerva,” he said warningly. “What have you done?”

“It belonged to Albus. A country home... a small country home, little more than a cottage, really. He bequeathed it to me. It's only a small portion of what you should have had.”

“Minerva, I can't possibly accept this.”

“You can and you shall!” she declared. Then more gently, “My home is Hogwarts. The house sits empty. A house needs to be lived in. Please Severus, I want you to have it.”

“Minerva...”

“Please, Severus.” He looked like he might be waivering. “It holds all of Albus' private library. He always meant for you to have that, too.” Severus eyes lit up at the mention of Albus' books. “Please, my boy. Put an old lady's heart at ease.”

“Where is it?”

“It's near Glenridding, in the Lake District. It's a lovely area. You'll love it there.”

“You'll love it where?” said Hermione from the doorway. Coming forward to give Minerva a quick hug and a peck on the cheek, she then came over next to where Severus sat on the sofa. She looked at him nervously. “Are you going somewhere?”

Severus reached out for her hand and pulled her onto his lap, uncaring that Minerva was there watching. “That depends. I'm not going anywhere without you. What do you think about living in the Lake District?”

Hermione's face lit up with her smile. “With you? Anywhere sounds lovely.”

“I guess it's settled then. The Snape's are moving to Glenridding.”

“The Snape's? Severus, is that your backhanded idea of a proposal?”

He eyed her carefully, trying to read her reactions without actually resorting to using subtle Legilimency on her. He'd learned his lesson there and would never try that again. Like Potter said, she was one scary witch. And he loved her, with all his heart. “If it were, would you accept?”

“Perhaps, if you did it properly,” she replied saucily, glancing at Minerva with a wink.

Severus shifted her to one side, placing her bum on the sofa as he actually dropped to one knee. 

Hermione gasped and tried to pull him back up. “Severus, no, I was only kidding. You don't have to do this.”

He ignored her and took her hand in his. “Will you, Hermione Granger, marry me and be my wife and move with me to Glenridding?”

Hermione didn't hesitate for one second. “Yes! I will.” Leaning down, she kissed him soundly, threading her fingers through his hair to pull him in close. “I love you so much, Severus,” she whispered. 

Then, leaning back so she could look at him, she asked, “What, pray tell, is in Glenridding?”

“It appears I own a house there.”

“A house? Since when?”

“Apparently about five minutes ago. Minerva tells me there are lots of books there. Rare books.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. 

“Hmmm... a house in the country. Books. Rare books and lots of them. The man I love. Sounds too good to resist. What do you think of all this Minerva?” she asked turning to her friend and mentor.

Minerva wiped a tear from her cheek as she replied. “It sounds like happily-ever-after.”

 

FIN


	8. Epilogue

Epilogue:

~*~

Severus and Hermione married in a small intimate ceremony with their close friends present. They honeymooned in Italy and shortly thereafter they moved to Glenridding to discover the small country cottage that Minerva had given them was in actuality a full country house. While it was no Malfoy Manor, or Toadstool Keep, with three stories, six bedrooms, lots living area, a huge library, and the perfect spot in the basement for a potions lab, for them it was perfection. Although in theory Hermione still objected to house-elf servitude, she better understood their mind set, and asked Pippi to come work for them for a galleon a month and all the ice cream she could eat. They had plenty of room for themselves and for visitors, of whom they had plenty. Some stay longer than others.

~*~

Severus continued to work part-time with Neville at Seville Imports. He guest lectured occasionally at Hogwarts for upper level potions classes, but he refused to take on a regular class load in spite of Minerva's badgering. He puttered around in his potions lab, and had patents on several successful potions, it seemed the public no longer cared if their potions were brewed by a Snape as long as they worked. He was content to spend most of his time at home with his wife in the library, where among other things, they were working their way through Albus' rare book collection. One of their favorites being an extremely rare first edition of the Wizards Kama Sutra. 

~*~

Hermione continued to work part-time for a while running Things, but eventually became more of a figurehead for the agency. Arabella continued to run the office with an iron fist and Argus retired again and to take care of their home and their cats. Those two never married, she said she was too old for such nonsense, and Argus just grinned and said he enjoyed living in sin. Dennis Creevey and his wife became the chief field investigators, eventually hiring a whole crew of Squibs. Later they became quite well know in the Muggle world when ghost hunting became quite the rage. Hermione enjoyed spending time with her husband both traveling and at home entertaining guests. Some stay longer than others.

~*~

Seville Imports flourished with the help of a lot of ingenuity and a little bit of magic. Within a couple years Neville was well on his way to restoring Toadstool Keep to it's former glory. He still taught part-time at Hogwarts but only the advanced Herbology classes. No dunderheads allowed, only those students who had a true interest or love for the subject. Neville had convinced Luna Lovegood to join him in his endeavors at Seville Imports by becoming head of the creature division. Among other things, she perfected a method to harvest Beluga caviar with no harm to the sturgeon whatsoever. A sort of catch and release system, leaving the fish to return to the sea again and again. She and Neville became quite the item and wedding plans were in their future.

~*~

With Augusta's murder solved and her murderer brought to justice she was free to move beyond the veil if she chose. But now that Neville was spending more time at the keep and had Luna in the picture... Well, with the prospect of possible grand-babies to come, she decided she might hang around for a bit longer. Neville was more than happy to have his gran stay as long as she was happy. And Luna... well everyone had always thought her a bit odd, but Luna saw nothing at all strange about having the ghost of her future husband's grandmother living in the same house. In fact she and Augusta got to be quite good friends.

~*~

Harry and Draco stayed together. While Draco had no interest in becoming the spokesperson for the Malfoy family businesses, it turned out that Harry had quite a knack for it. It really set the wizarding world on it's ear when Harry became a top executive at Malfoy, Inc. He spent a lot of time involved in their philanthropic endeavors and also kept an active hand in the three Quiditch franchises they owned.

~*~

Lucius became semi-retired, he still dabbled in the family business, but for the most part he was content to let Harry take care of the big decisions. He still spent a lot time serving on the Hogwarts Board of Governors, and St. Mungo's board among others. The rest of his time was spent visiting friends or having friends visit him. It seemed he spent rather a lot of time in the Lake District these days.

~*~ 

Draco eventually took his cooking hobby to the next level and opened a wizarding restaurant in Diagon Alley called Calderone Della Strega, The Witch's Cauldron. It was an overnight success. He loved experimenting with new recipes, especially using the exotic ingredients provided by Seville Imports. He had found his niche in running the restaurant; bossing people around just seemed to come naturally to him. 

~*~ 

Severus' childhood friend Tony Larosa provided Draco with a good bit of advice and assistance with the start up planning for his restaurant. Tony, the perpetual bachelor, had been introduced by his best friend to Clarrisa of the haunted inn fame. It was love at first sight. Sophia called it, 'un colpo di fulmine', like a bolt of lightening. They were married in less than a year with Severus and Hermione as their witnesses. And who would have ever suspected? It turned out there were actually quite a few Italian stregas scattered throughout Zia Sophia's background. For although the two were Muggles, they had it on good authority that their daughter's name had appeared on the enrollment list at Hogwarts, Ermione Sophia Larosa. She was better known to all as Mya, and her Zia Ermione and Zio Severino couldn't have been prouder. 

The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Prompts:
> 
> Even after the war has been won by The Order's side, Severus is still reviled for his Death Eater association, and thus unable to find employment. He delves deep into his Muggle roots to earn his living, albeit in a magical fashion. Prejudices from Voldemort's reign still have impact on Hermione's world. She never completed her NEWTs, therefore she doesn't have the credentials for employment in the Wizarding world. She finds a way to use her magical knowledge to provide a much needed service in the Muggle world... Ghost busting.


End file.
